


Bruises to the soul

by casknowsaboutwizards



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, PTSD, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-02 06:39:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 119,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6555679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casknowsaboutwizards/pseuds/casknowsaboutwizards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the war, Harry struggles with the aftermath of his fight with Voldemort at the battle of Hogwarts. Hermione forces him to see a Mind Healer but after his first difficult appointment, he no longer needs her to coerce him into going every single week. Indeed, Draco Malfoy is also a patient and he’s nothing Harry thought he’d be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Indelicacies

**Author's Note:**

> The biggest thank you goes to my Beta, Playout. She has done an amazing work on this fic and she’s also an excellent writer! You should check out her profile; she has written loads of extremely good Drarry fanfics.  
> You can find me on Tumblr: casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com

The sun was slowly setting on the horizon, its golden shade lingering in the air for one last moment. There was also a light breeze sweeping the wild grass and it seemed as if the entire field was whispering around Harry. He was lying underneath an old and gnarled oak,  his arms crossed underneath his head and his eyes closed. He was barely visible from the house and he thought perhaps it was the reason he picked the old oak in the first place. A notebook was abandoned on the ground next to him, its pages blank.  

July had barely started and yet, Harry was always cold. It was as if someone had thrown ice water on him and made it pierce his skin and stopped his blood from flowing. Even warm showers and baths were unable to help him; it was not unusual to see him with a woolen jumper and two pairs of socks. But he knew it wasn’t a simple sickness, after all he had recently died. It was only for a brief moment but it took its toll all the same. His body just had to adjust, like it did seventeen years ago. 

Of course, his friends were worried. Too worried. He caught Hermione’s eyes as she watched him with concern too many times to count. Harry knew she had an idea in mind and his thoughts were confirmed when she had sat next to him underneath the old oak a few days ago. 

“You know of Muggle psychologists, don’t you, Harry?” Hermione asked with caution. 

Harry simply nodded. He had grown up watching the same TV programs with Dudley and it was often talk shows with family issues resolved by psychologists. Harry was never fond of these but Dudley seemed to love them above all. 

“Well, I've done research to see if there is such a thing in the Wizarding world and I found one. I sent her an owl and she agreed to meet you. If you want, you could go there. I think it’d be good for you.”

Harry refused and said he could talk to Hermione and Ron if he felt the need, which he didn’t by the way. Hermione, like usual, kept pestering him about it until he finally agreed to go, just once. He had only accepted because he thought Hermione would let it go if he just tried. He didn’t think he needed to heal from any psychic wound; he had none. Unlike many, the war hadn’t left any lasting damage on him when so many others had lost a member and were disfigured. 

At any rate, that’s how Harry found himself sitting in the Healer’s office earlier that afternoon in Diagon Alley. It was so narrow and dark that he felt claustrophobic. The sign on the desk said “Healer A. Johnson”. Strange, he thought, being here is supposed to make me feel better but I feel worse. A young woman was sitting in front of him, she had a very tight bun on her head and dark robes which made her look severe. It was probably what she wanted though, she was so young her first patients might have considered her inexperienced. What was Harry doing here?

“Why did you come here, Mr Potter?” she asked, thinking exactly the same thing him.

“My best friend told me to come. She’s worried about me. She thinks I shouldn’t keep things to myself.”

“What sort of things?”

Harry shrugged.

“These things, are they about the war?” Healer Johnson asked.

Harry nodded. It wasn’t that hard to know that he was there because of the war, indeed he was more famous than ever these days. The Healer seemed to wait for Harry to talk and he finally did because he hated the uncomfortable silence.

“I can’t be who I was before the war, everything’s changed now. It’ll never be the same ever again.”

“Do you find that thought scary?” 

 _Yes_ , Harry thought. “I’m not sure.” he answered because he didn’t feel like confessing things to the unknown stern Healer. 

Her quill made quick notes of what he said and Harry felt her eyes on him, as if she heard the lie. 

“Tell me about the battle of Hogwarts,” she said after a while.

Harry almost choked at her bluntness. He couldn’t talk about it, couldn’t think about it. Everything was still so painful. George was locked in his bedroom, Mrs Weasley crying when she thought no one saw her and Harry hadn’t yet found the courage to see his godson, Teddy. No, he couldn’t bear to think about it any more than he had to.

“You don’t want to talk about it,” stated the Healer.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Do you have trouble sleeping?”

“Yes. I have nightmares.”

“About what?”

Harry told her he dreamt of his loved ones’ deaths. Every night. He saw his parents screaming and falling to the floor and Sirius disappearing behind the Veil. 

“But that didn’t happen during the war, did it?”

Harry frowned.  “No but it’s still all related…”

“Mr Potter, you don’t understand. When your godfather died, your best friend didn’t send you to a Healer. I’m not comparing your griefs,” she added when she saw Harry was about to protest. “I know you were devastated when your godfather died, I can see that even now. But then, why did your friend send you here now? What happened during the battle that caused you so much pain you can’t move on?”

Harry didn’t say anything. He hadn’t thought about it that way and now that he did, he certainly wasn’t very keen on telling this unknown Healer all about the worst moments of his life. Though, he was thankful because the Healer had enough tact or experience to let him choose whether he wanted to answer or not. 

“I understand you’re going back to Hogwarts in September. How do you feel about that?”

That was a question Harry could answer. “It’s my home, I’m glad to go back. I’m not sure it’ll be that easy for Ron and Ginny since they lost a brother there…” 

“Ginny Weasley is your girlfriend, isn’t she?”

Harry smiled. “I see you’re well-informed.”

She had a brief smile herself before going back to her severe posture.  “It’s hard not to know, Mr Potter, you’re in every newspaper there is. Tell me about her.”

Harry stopped smiling, his moist hands grasped his jeans.  “She’s grieving, she’s lost a brother. And I’m… Well, we haven’t really thought about us as a couple recently.”

“Did you drift apart, after the war ended?”

“Yes, we probably did but it’ll be alright," Harry eluded. “She needs time to mourn Fred and I need time to…”  _To start living again_ , Harry thought.

“To what?”

“I just need time.”

The clock made a ringing noise like a bell, surprising Harry. The time was up. Relieved, he leaped from his chair. 

“I’d like to see you next week, Mr Potter. And if you do come back, I want you to keep a diary. No one would have access but you, you can write whatever you want, let your emotions flow. Since you don’t want to talk, it’s a very good alternative.” 

Harry nodded, mainly because he wanted to get out as fast as possible. He didn’t even know if he would come back next week. He rushed outside the dark office, through the waiting room and felt instantly better outside, away from Healer Johnson’s uncomfortable stare. Ron and Hermione were waiting for him outside a restaurant, eating ice cream and laughing.  Harry dropped on a chair and sighed. 

“I take it it didn’t go that well,” Hermione said while giving Harry a drink she ordered for him.

Harry told them about the meeting while lazily playing with the straw in his lemonade. 

“Blimey, that Healer sounds terrible! You just sit across her and talk? Never heard anything like it, mate," said Ron when Harry had stopped talking. 

“Ron, I think it’ll help Harry a lot!” Hermione seemed to think these meetings with the Healer would be good for Harry.

“Do you really think I’m the type of person who keeps a diary?” 

“There’s nothing wrong with having a diary. It can be very helpful.” 

“Hermione, I really don’t think…”

Hermione stopped him and said:  “Listen, go back and take a few more sessions with her and if you don’t like it or if you think it doesn’t help you, then you can just stop going, okay?”

Harry nodded. Arguing with Hermione was impossible anyway once she had an idea in mind.

“Hey! We bought you a present!” Ron said when he felt tension rising between them and an uncomfortable silence settling. 

“What? But it’s not my birthday yet…”

Ron just smiled and grabbed a cage that was behind his back. There was a brown owl inside, rather big and majestic. Harry liked the owl right away and slipped his finger inside the cage to stroke his feathers.

“Thank you, really,” he said simply. His smile had said it all. 

“What do you reckon it should be called?” 

“I don’t know yet. I’ll think about it.”

“Don’t let Ginny name him though,” Ron added, laughing, “I don’t think we need another Pigwidgeon.”

Before going back to the Burrow, Harry excused himself and bought a diary. He felt ridiculous doing so but at least he’d be able to try filling the blank pages. He found himself in front of Wealseys’ Wizard Wheezes, closed and abandoned. He tried hard not to think about Fred and walked past it. 

* * *

 

Harry sighed in the shade of the oak. It had indeed been hard to pass the Weasley’s old shop, boarded up and empty. He took the diary back in his hands and opened it. He hesitated a moment and then started to write. 

“ _July 5th_.”

And now what? He had no idea what to write. He wrote two words and then crossed them, closed the diary and went back to his former position. A few moments later, he was trying to write again.

“ _I remember when we went to the zoo for Dudley’s birthday. There was a snake behind a glass, trapped inside and people were watching him constantly.That’s how I feel right now. My friends expect me to explode any moment and the rest of the world worships me. I never asked for any of this. I thought, if Voldemort was ever defeated, that I would feel better. But I feel even worse, if that’s even possible, because defeating him cost us all so much. I also remember watching a horror movie with Dudley when Vernon and Petunia went away for the evening. Dudley was so scared he ran away in his bedroom before the movie ended but I kept watching. I had the living room to myself, finally. There was an alien coming out of a poor bloke’s belly I think. That’s exactly how I feel right now. I feel like there’s a beast inside me and I can’t let it out._ ”

Harry heard footsteps.

He looked up and saw Ginny walking in his direction. She was wearing a simple blue dress and she was barefoot. He found her beautiful. He closed his diary and hid it under the oak’s roots. He was not ready to share that with Ginny because he did not know how she would react; she had been possessed by a part of Voldemort’s soul trapped inside a diary and probably hated the simple sight of them nowadays.

“Dinner’s served!” she said with a smile.

Harry got up and cleaned his outfit a bit. There were bits of grass everywhere, even in his hair. As they walked silently towards the house, he felt Ginny’s hand slip inside his. Surprised by this sign of affection, he tightened his hand around hers. 

“It’d be good if we could talk after dinner, Harry," she said as they entered the kitchen. 

Harry dropped his hand and nodded with apprehension. What did she want to talk about? Had she finally decided she didn’t want him? 

“Don’t be like that,” Ginny laughed as she kissed the corner of his mouth. “It’s nothing serious.”

Dinner was silent, as usual. No one said much. There was no plate where Fred usually sat and everyone avoided that spot in particular. George didn’t come out of his bedroom anymore. Mr Weasley asked everyone what they had done this afternoon.He still worked a lot at the Ministry and was absent more than he was present. 

“Well, Harry went to…”

“… Diagon Alley, to buy a new cauldron!” Hermione said as she crushed Ron’s foot under the table.

She was trying to let Harry decide for himself if he wanted to tell everyone he was seeing a Healer or not.  Mr Weasley nodded and they all became silent again. Harry declined Ron’s idea to play chess and followed Ginny discreetly inside her bedroom. They were alone at last.

He expected everything but this: as soon as they were inside her bedroom, Ginny kissed him passionately. It had been months since they’d last kissed like that. During these past weeks, there used to be a sort of unease between them, as if they had forgotten who they were. Harry wondered if she had grown tired of him, if they were just bound to drift apart.  But now, he felt her alive in his arms. Ginny’s skin was soft and so warm it burned him. It was strange because his skin was freezing and the contrast between them was violent. Was he simply imagining this? He probably was because Ginny didn’t seem to notice how cold he was. 

“You wanted to talk to me?” he asked between two kisses. 

“No, not really.” 

Ginny was fumbling with his shirt. Harry felt the tip of her fingers on his skin. It made him unable to focus. 

“I just wanted to be alone with you,” she continued. “Ron doesn’t let you out of his sight.”

“He probably thinks that I’ll do… inappropriate things with you.”

“That’s a shame because it’s exactly what I had in mind.”

* * *

 

Ginny was asleep against him, their legs tangled together. The bed was tiny, there wasn’t room for the both of them. Harry was lying so close to the edge that the slightest movement would make them fall. Ginny’s head was stuck to his chest, just beneath his chin. Her hair was tickling him and he felt like sneezing but he didn’t want to wake her up. It was selfish and terrible after what they did but he just didn’t want to talk to her. 

Not now.

He had know what to think of what they just did before they could talk. He had to know why he felt uncomfortable and confused. The one thing he was certain of was that it had been completely inappropriate. What was he thinking? He had been so stupid. But he didn’t have the strength to refuse her kisses and light touches. He could have told her that he wasn’t ready, that he wanted to wait but what kind of bloke says that?  And then, there were her eyes. Full of tears as she was so close to him. Harry thought he hurt her but she reassured him and more tears escaped her eyes. He understood what kind of couple she thought they were. But for him, was it the same? Harry felt monstrous for not being sure. 

It had been a nice first time. After an awkward beginning, his body had grown to like it but his head had liked it a lot less. He didn’t know why. Like all teenagers, he had thought about his first time and he couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. But it was probably his fault, he had perhaps been indelicate. He refused to believe that he had had sex with Ginny for the wrong reasons.

He closed his eyes, calmed his breathing. He fell asleep and the nightmares started. He dreamt of snakes hissing and sliding on the floor, their cold blood running through their veins, their skin hard and rough and glacial. Just like his. The snakes talked to him sometimes, in his dreams, but Harry didn’t understand them anymore. That part of him was gone.

 _Or is it_? asked a perfidious voice in his head. Each time, Harry ignored it.

* * *

 

Early the next morning, Harry got out of bed while Ginny slept. He picked up his clothes on the floor and went outside. The sun was slowly rising outside and it felt chilly. He walked towards the old oak and listened to the wind shaking the many leaves and high grass of the field. It was calm. He saw the diary he left behind the day before and opened it. He started writing without thinking.

“ _6th July,_

_I killed it. I know I did. I killed the part of him inside me. Yet, I can’t watch myself in a mirror without thinking my face will transform into his, my eyes become red. I can’t sleep without having nightmares. Was I angry and impulsive because of Voldemort? Was it his soul? Which choices were his and which ones were mine?  I remember what Slytherin’s locket did to Ron, Hermione and me. It made us so angry and made us think terrible things. And I had the same thing inside of me for seventeen years.”_

Harry heard a door slam in the Burrow’s direction. He put the diary down and squinted his eyes so that he could see if someone was coming his way or if it was just the wind. There was indeed a moving figure walking towards him and he soon realized it was Ginny. He hid the diary a little bit better and waited for her to come, pretending to relax and watch the sunrise. She seemed angry, even as far away as she was. 

“You’re here,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest. 

Harry tried to smile and nodded.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he answered, too quickly.  Bad job, he thought. 

“Nothing? Well, if you’re not doing anything, why didn’t you stay upstairs with me? Did you think I’d like waking up alone in an empty bed?”

“I just… I needed air… I had a nightmare.” 

“Oh please, don’t lie,” she said, hands on her hips. “If you regret it, just say so, Harry!”

“It’s not that!”

“Then what?”

Harry was about to answer when the door opened again and Mrs Weasley appeared.

“What are you doing up so early?” she asked, smiling as she carried a basket of laundry.

“Harry needed air,” Ginny answered coldly as she went back inside.

* * *

 Harry was sitting in Healer Johnson’s waiting room, trying to read a Quidditch magazine in vain. A week had passed since his last meeting. A terrible week. Ginny didn’t talk to him, she ignored him and walked passed him when he tried to explain himself. But explain what? He still didn’t know why he felt scared and why he had tried to run away from her. 

Thankfully, Ron didn’t know anything about what had happened between them. If he had been as clever as Hermione, perhaps he would have sensed something was off between them but since he was not, all was well.

Harry looked up as he threw the magazine on the table and realized he wasn’t alone in the waiting room anymore. Draco Malfoy was sitting in front of him, legs crossed, face serene. Harry hadn’t seen him since the end of the war and he wasn’t complaining. Yes, Narcissa Malfoy had saved his life back in the forest but it didn’t change the displeasure he felt towards her son. 

Malfoy hadn't changed much, his hair was perhaps a bit wilder but still as white as snow. He had the same pale grey eyes but his cheeks were slightly pink, probably because of the sun. He was one of those people who couldn’t tan and turned red every time they stayed too long beneath the sun without adequate protection.  

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked bluntly without thinking.

His rude tone didn’t seem to shake Malfoy.

“Same thing as you, I suppose.”

He checked his watch, seemed bored. Suddenly, the office’s door opened and a very small witch came out, wiping her cheeks with a bright pink tissue and sniffing as she passed. She couldn’t hide her sobs. Harry raised his eyebrows and saw that Malfoy had hidden a smirk. 

“Mr Potter!” Healer Johnson called.

Harry got up with reluctance and walked past Malfoy who caught his arm to make him stop.

“Could you… Would you have time for a coffee, after?” he asked. 

Harry was so surprised he stopped walking and watched Malfoy’s hand around his arm, astonished at the sudden heat he felt, it was almost like a burn.

“I won’t poison your drink,” Malfoy said as he dropped Harry arm. 

“It’d be a first.”

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” Malfoy added with annoyance when he heard Harry’s tongue in cheek answer. 

Harry thought about it for a few seconds, searched for a sign of amusement in Malfoy’s eyes. When he found none, he decided he had nothing to lose and that nothing would happen to him in a public place. He accepted with a brief nod and walked inside Healer Johnson’s office. 

“I take it you know Mr Malfoy?” Healer Johnson asked. 

“Unfortunately.” She told Harry to sit down and grabbed her quill. 

“You’re not friends, then.”

“With him?” Harry laughed. “He’s not only extremely annoying, he’s rigid, insulting, pretentious and a coward.”

“Yet you just agreed to meet him.”

“Well, yeah, I’m curious. I want to know what he wants.”

“Why?”

“We didn’t get along in school at all. Then, it became more than that because we were on different sides during the war. But today, he was sort of polite, which is completely odd by the way, and he wanted to meet me. Wouldn’t you be intrigued?”

“You’re not supposed to be the one asking the questions, Mr Potter.”

Harry apologized and they kept talking for a while until the Healer asked about the diary. She asked him how he felt as he wrote.

“I don’t know. Worse I think so I stopped.”

She nodded as if she understood. Then, she asked him about his week. When she saw the look on his face, she dropped her quill and told him he could tell her anything and that it will never get out of her office. He sighed and started talking about Ginny. He knew Healer Johnson wouldn’t judge him. When he was finished, she was looking as stern as before and Harry thought it meant she was still completely professional. 

“I think,” she started, “that the problem isn’t your girlfriend or what you feel for her. I think you’re the problem, Mr Potter.”

As she was saying this, the clock made the ringing noise again and the time was up. 

“We’ll continue next week. Keep writing.” 

Harry felt frustrated as he got up and walked outside of the office. At least, he’d have a reason to come back next week. 

* * *

 

Malfoy sat abruptly. His hair fell in front of his eyes and he brushed it off with his hand. He took off his black jacket, revealing a white shirt with long sleeves. Harry wondered how he could stand the heat of the summer; he didn’t even seem to sweat at all. Harry felt a thin layer of perspiration on his forehead though he was only wearing a simple t-shirt. A very old t-shirt actually, wide and washed-out. Where had he even found it? Next to Malfoy, Harry thought he must have looked like a troll. 

The cafe was beside Healer Johnson’s office and that was the only reason he chose it. It was small and dusty, the walls were completely blank and they were alone inside it. Harry could have walked passed it without noticing, which is what everyone else did. People in the street walked quickly, carrying their purchases, not even looking at the small shop. Harry noticed, he had watched them during a very long hour. 

He had waited for Malfoy an hour, the time of his own session with Healer Johnson and the whole of it was spent wondering why he was wasting his time. The waiter had him asked several time what he wanted to drink but Harry had simply answered that he was waiting for someone. The waiter had raised his eyebrows and smiled, probably thinking Harry was on a date. 

“Do you also think about all the other things you could do while you’re in there, with her?” Malfoy asked while rolling his sleeves. 

He crossed his arms and his slender fingers followed the scratches on the table. His voice had been almost friendly, polite at least, and Harry couldn’t sense the slightest animosity. He turned discreetly to make sure Malfoy was talking to him. 

“Stop that, Potter, will you? I’m obviously talking to you, there’s no one else here.” Malfoy was smiling and he raised his hand towards the waiter and ordered two coffees. 

“You didn’t even ask me if I wanted a coffee.”

“Well, do you want a coffee?”

“Yes,” Harry answered, resisting a desire to laugh. “I just said that to piss you off.”

“Well, thanks for clearing that up but I think I understood.” Malfoy was still smirking, visibly amused by their conversation.

Harry didn’t have the time to reply because the waiter arrived with their coffees. Harry dropped a sugar in his and a few drops splashed his shirt.

“Bloody hell!” he swore.

He looked at Malfoy at once; he was giving him a paper towel with another smirk. 

“Unless you need a bib.”

Harry took the paper towel and started wiping the coffee.

“You wanted to talk to me right? Well, I’m listening.” 

“You’re going to tear your shirt if you keep doing that.”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

Malfoy laughed and took a sip of his coffee. Harry looked at him furiously, still trying to make the stain disappear. 

“Spit it out,” he said. 

Malfoy stopped laughing and put his coffee back on the table and said:

“McGonagall informed me I could return to Hogwarts for an Eighth Year, like you I suppose, but I don’t have a wand. I could buy another or use my mother’s again, of course, but it’s not the same. And I know you have mine and you probably use it but it is, was, mine and I got used to it.”

Harry had almost forgotten about the hawthorne wand. After he had repaired his phoenix wand with the Elder Wand, he had started using it again and left Malfoy’s in the moleskin pouch Hagrid had given him for his seventeenth birthday. He carried it in his pocket everyday because he couldn’t quite leave his mother’s letter, the open Snitch and R.A.B.’s fake locket behind just yet.  He took the wand out and put it on the table, between their two steaming cups. He saw Malfoy’s eyes shine with longing. Harry knew what it felt to be unable to use the extension of his arm. 

“Take it, it was never really mine.”

Malfoy beamed. 

“Are you sure?”

Harry nodded. Malfoy grabbed it with care, as if he expected the wand to burn him. As it disappeared inside Malfoy’s jacket, Harry felt a pang of sadness. After all, the wand had served him well. 

“Thank you,” Malfoy said, “for this and for… You know.” 

Harry knew. He remembered the flames in the Requirement Room.

“You would have done the same thing for me," Harry said with a bit of provocation in his voice.

“I’m not so sure,” Malfoy answered with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“That’s also what I was thinking.” Harry was smiling, as well, but he kept his head hidden so that Malfoy wouldn’t see. They went back to their thoughts and drank their coffees quietly. 

It was almost a comfortable silence. 


	2. It's cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the best beta, playout. She's got an account here on AO3 and has published excellent fics! You should check out her work, it's worth it.

He should have gone somewhere else. Harry was sitting at the exact same spot as last week. Same table against the window, same view of the street, same dusty cafe. But this time, without knowing why exactly, he had brought a book. As if he had planned on waiting. But for what? Or _who_? 

He sighed as he took a mouthful of ice cream, almost spitting it out the moment it touched his tongue. Ugh! How long had it been sitting in a malfunctioning freezer? Acrid ice crystals melted in his mouth; he didn't even recognize a hint of vanilla. Indeed he could not get rid of the taste of freezer burn and pulp as he drank his entire glass of water to wash the vile mess down. He hoped he would not be sick when he returned to the Burrow. 

 _An excellent way to finish off this excellent week_ , he thought with no small measure of irony.  

When he had finished his session, he had seen Malfoy on the sidewalk. He had briefly nodded at Harry before going inside the waiting room. No furious glance, no insult, no bitterness between them. Malfoy had brushed Harry when he passed and neither of them had even thought of pushing the other away. Before, Harry would have jumped across the street to avoid him or would have sent him flying against the wall. But what had changed? Him? Malfoy? The circumstances? 

Harry turned a page in his book, his chin resting on his hand. The ice cream had been abandoned, unfit as it was for human consumption. It was slowly melting inside the chipped white bowl. He looked at his watch--he had been there for an hour. His eyes left the book and scanned the street, filled with witches and wizards bustling amongst the shops. Moments later, two grey eyes met his own through the dusty glass of the cafe window. Malfoy stopped walking so abruptly the witch behind him almost ran into him. Motionless, he watched Harry a few seconds and the latter looked away, as if caught misbehaving. He stared at his book again, forbid himself from moving and pretended not to hear the door of the cafe opening, jaunty bell signaling the potential customer's approach.

_Had he been waiting for Malfoy?_

Absurd! He simply didn’t want to go back to the Burrow. Not right away, at least. Yes, of course, he could have gone anywhere in Diagon, where he couldn’t have met Malfoy but… 

“May I sit there?”

Harry didn’t have to look up to see that if was Malfoy. 

“Why here?” he retorted snappishly. “There’s plenty of other unoccupied seats.”

“Yes, but this chair is available and it’s this chair I want,” he said as he sat down, regardless of Harry’s protests. “You were waiting for me, weren’t you?” 

It hardly constituted a question.

“Certainly not! I was reading."

The protest sounded weak even to him. Malfoy chuckled.

“Upside down? I must have underestimated the performance of your spectacles!”

Harry looked down on his book and felt his cheeks heating. He was holding his book _upside down_. Had been the entire hour he'd been sitting there like a moron! Malfoy closed the book and looked at the cover. He rolled his eyes with obvious amusement. 

Harry wondered why he felt so embarrassed. Quitdditch through the ages was honestly the only book he never grew tired of reading. His own life was already worthy of a novel and he would never read school textbooks during holidays. He could have explained all of this to Malfoy but he didn’t want to justify himself. He didn’t owe anything to Malfoy.

“If you’re here to insult me, you can just get up and walk away!”

“I didn’t insult you,” Malfoy answered calmly. 

Harry pulled at his fringe in frustration.

“Well, you could have been a little nicer. And stop doubting my ability to read!”

Malfoy's smirk spread slow and smug. “Wait, you’re telling me you know how to read?" he drawled. "All this time, I thought you were only watching the pictures.”

Harry fumbled with his book, trying hastily to stuff it back inside his bag. “You know what," he snapped, "just sod off! Sodding prat!”

Malfoy laughed easily. “Why so much hostility, Potter? Don’t you see I’m trying to be nice?”

Harry sensed the irony but said nothing. He took a breath. Then another. He knew he was overreacting. Obnoxious though Malfoy was, he really hadn't done anything so intolerable in the past several minutes. He was angry because of his terrible week, not because of Malfoy and he was lashing out at the easiest target. It wasn't fair to either of them.

“I’ve had a bad day," he explained on an exhale, standing over Malfoy who tilted his pointed chin to gaze up at him. "A terrible week, actually. And this Healer is getting on my nerves, nearly as much as you do actually. It took her a whole bloody hour to explain that I’m 'sentimentally unstable,' 'psychologically fragile,' and that I needed time to 'reconstruct myself.' Seriously! She had a box of tissues on her desk, was she expecting me to cry? Do I look like I need to reconstruct myself?”

Malfoy was biting his lip, trying not to giggle. Harry realized he sounded rather mad.

“Well, I'm no professional but it doesn't take one to know you are most definitely unstable," he opined, a fall of platinum hair obscuring one laughing eye. Harry was furious with himself for babbling about his supposed psychological issues with the unsympathetic git, who was now smiling widely.

“Who’s forcing you to go?” Malfoy asked more seriously, hitting the nail on the head.

“Hermione," Harry answered grimly, unsure why he was still speaking.

Malfoy nodded. “I thought so. Why don’t you just tell her to 'sod off'? You seem rather well practiced at it.”

“Have you ever tried telling that to Hermione?” Harry answered, tone flatly incredulous.

“But you actually _talk_ to her?”

Harry did a double-take. “Who, Hermione?”

“Of course not you imbecile, the Healer.”

Oh. Right. “Well, yes. Don't you?”

Malfoy crossed his arms, expression sour. “Absolutely not.”

Suddenly more interested in the conversation, Harry returned to his seat.

“But if you don’t talk, what do you do?” he pressed.

“I sleep, the couch is very comfortable.”

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. He probably looked like a stupid fish but he had no idea what to say.  “...And she actually lets you?”

Malfoy looked like he couldn't care less.

“Well, yes, I pay her after all," he answered flippantly.

Harry looked outside, thinking.

“What, do you find that infuriatingly immoral, Saint Potter?” Malfoy sneered.

Harry shook his head. “I just wished I had the idea myself," he admitted.

Malfoy seemed almost glad to hear it. 

“So, finished eating?” he asked after a moment.

Harry looked with a grimace at the melted off-white ice-sludge and nodded. He searched for his wallet and was about to leave a few Sickles on the table when Malfoy caught his wrist to stop him.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t pay. You didn’t eat anything.”

“Are you saying I should just walk out without paying? Just like that?”

Malfoy nodded.

“Well, that’d be immoral, don’t you think?”

Malfoy's eyes sparkled with challenge. “So what? You’ve never done anything _immoral_ ," he drew out the word tauntingly, "in your life?”

 _Yes_ , Harry thought. _I slept with Ginny and couldn’t face her afterwards so I ran away like a ruddy coward. I've yet to tell her I'm sorry. Bloody hell, aren’t blokes supposed to think about shagging all day long? It didn’t even made me want to do it again…_

“If I do that,” Harry started, “we’ll never be able to come back.”

Malfoy leaned a bit towards him. “There are other places we can go.”

Harry thought Malfoy’s answer was a bit peculiar because it felt like it had been something Ron could have said to him, like 'come on Harry, let’s play Quidditch.' It was like a friendly suggestion. Were they becoming friends? Harry winced. It was more than absurd. It was completely ridiculous. He hated Malfoy and the feeling was mutual, he knew. 

Malfoy took away the hand he had laid on Harry’s wrist and rubbed it on his thigh. Great, Malfoy had touched him and now he felt disgusted. That was much more normal.  

“Are you cold?” Malfoy asked, taking Harry by surprise. 

Harry panicked and lied, said no right away.

“Your skin is freezing, it’s… odd,” Malfoy added contemplatively.

Harry dropped the coins in his hand and they rolled beneath the table. Malfoy felt the cold. The cold Harry thought he imagined. He wasn’t mad! ...But was it really reassuring that it was not his imagination? 

“I’m not cold,” he said again and Malfoy shrugged as if it didn’t matter. 

They got up and the waiter watched them leave, stooping to retrieve the lost change. As they were walking out, Malfoy chuckled.

“Why are you laughing?” Harry demanded, considering offense.

“You even gave him a tip, Potter,” he answered dryly.

“I didn’t mean to!” Harry answered, smiling despite himself. 

Malfoy was shaking his head. “Pathetic, Potter. Really pathetic.”

They were now walking silently in Diagon Alley. Barely uncomfortable at the idea of being seen with each other. The street was crowded. Malfoy was wearing sunglasses and walking alongside Harry Potter as if it were something they did all the time.  Harry wondered what the two girls he recognized from Hogwarts were whispering in each other’s ear. Potter and Malfoy. Together. It was quite a shock.

“Why are you being nice to me?” Harry asked. “I don’t have any other wands for you, you know.”

Malfoy turned his head towards Harry, his glasses hid most of his expression. “You think I’ve only been nice to you because of my wand?”

Harry shrugged and said, “You don’t like me," as if it were the definitive answer to all things.  

“And neither do you," Malfoy retorted.

“Then why are you here? Is it because I saved your life?” Harry pressed, turning towards him, genuinely curious. 

“Maybe,” Malfoy answered flippantly. “Or maybe because I was there, outside the castle, when Hagrid carried your body and seeing you dead didn’t please me at all. Or maybe it’s simply time that I… change. And you’re the most radical way I found. But whatever the reason, the experience isn’t as unpleasant as I thought it would be.”

“I’m an experiment then?”

Malfoy shook his head. “You can be so bloody-minded! Try to remember mostly what I said before or after that, alright?”

Harry thought for a while. Did Malfoy say that hanging out with him was not unpleasant? 

“It’s been pleasant?”

Malfoy's lips twitched in an almost smile. “For example, yes.”

“Well, you look surprised!”

“I am. I thought you’d be unbearable." He tucked his hair behind his ear. It fell forward again immediately. "Well, you are, but it’s sort of nice. Your turn. Don’t say it’s not true, I know it is. Why were you waiting for me?”

Harry sighed. “I don’t know," he said honestly. "Maybe it’s time I change, as well.” Harry could see Malfoy's pale eyebrows rise behind his glasses. 

“Why would you want to change? You’ve got everything you want.”

Harry considered his answer.  “All my life, I’ve had a purpose. Now, I just don’t know what to do. I’m free for the first time in my life and it scares me. Which is stupid, I know.”

Malfoy touched his arm, the contact barely lasted a second. “It’s not." His expression and tone were both sincere. Almost imploring. Something squirmed in Harry's belly.  "Come on," Malfoy said, "let’s get a real ice cream.”

Harry followed as if in a trance. They walked a bit more and found a crowded cafe with a terrace full of people. Malfoy glanced at Harry, asking silently if he liked the place. Harry nodded and he and Malfoy sat across each other. A young waitress came right away and asked them what they wanted to eat. Malfoy changed his mind three times, on purpose, and finally chose the same thing as Harry. 

“Did she also ask you to go away?” Malfoy asked while dipping his spoon in his ice cream.

Harry didn’t have to ask who she was. He imitated the Healer Johnson's detached voice. “ _Mr Potter,  I think you need some isolation. Why don’t you take a few days of holiday, alone_?”

“Will you do it?”

“I don’t know yet but it’s tempting.”

Anything to get away from the Burrow, from the grief. He needed a change of scenery and he knew it. For once, Healer Johnson wasn’t wrong. He tasted the ice cream; it was perfect. 

“Why would you need to go away?” Harry asked, curious.

“Healer Johnson thinks my mother is smothering me. Which is probably true.”

“She saved my life.”

“I know. She told me.”

Harry winced. “Everything?”

Malfoy nodded and asked why Harry didn’t die.

“Who says I’m even alive?” he answered, voice barely above a whisper. 

It was the first time he'd expressed his biggest fear. It was slowly eating him, it was all he could think about. He grabbed Malfoy’s hand across the table, covered it with his own. It felt warm and that warmth spread into his veins. 

“Do you feel it?”  Malfoy frowned.  “The cold. Can you feel it?” Harry repeated. 

Malfoy pressed his fingers and nodded. Harry let go of the hand right away, realizing that, from the outside, it could have been perceived as a sign of affection. Something couples would do.

“Have you told the Healer?”

“No,” Harry answered. “You sleep and I never tell her anything important. It’s just how it is.” 

He looked up - away, trying to escape Malfoy’s gaze and suddenly noticed how the sky had darkened. He checked his watch. It was almost dinner time. Had they really been talking that long?

“I have to go,” Harry declared, almost reluctantly. 

He pushed his chair and got up. Malfoy hadn’t moved, he simply watched Harry as he stood up. Harry had a question burning his lips.

“See you next week?” Malfoy’s face instantly relaxed. He even smiled a little. 

“See you next week, Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also on Tumblr! casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com


	3. It's a funny thing

Harry came back to the Burrow with a strange feeling of freedom. He felt like he was about to cross an imaginary line. Had he crossed it already? He didn’t care, he could taste the recklessness on the tip of his tongue and it was good. It was like chocolate, like treacle, like deliverance. Like Malfoy’s hand over his and the cold disappearing from him as if it never existed, as if it wasn’t the most terrifying thing he ever felt. It was silly, really, and he shouldn’t be feeling all of this after a stupid conversation with Malfoy. He just couldn’t help it.

He didn’t realize he was humming a Muggle song when arrived in the garden and Hermione remarked dryly:

“What makes you so happy?”

Harry stopped smiling instantly. _Don’t look happy_ , he thought. It wasn’t that hard to pretend because he was truly sad. About Fred, Tonks, Remus and so many others. And it hurt, all the time. But he knew Hermione wasn’t thinking of that this time.

“She told you,” Harry simply answered.

“Of course she told me! She was lying on her bed, crying! How could you have done that, Harry? I don’t believe for a second that you don’t care about her. You love her.”

Harry was suddenly angry because he thought everything would be perfectly alright after the war but things were far from that, everything was complicated and messy and at the moment he felt like he could never find something peaceful in his life.

“I’m not so sure about that, Hermione.”

“Do you need me to remind you of all the time you spent watching her on the Marauder’s Map while we were hunting Horcruxes?”

“I remember,” he whispered softly.

“I don’t understand, Harry. What’s going on between the two of you?”

Harry felt guilty and ashamed because he knew that what he had done was wrong. But these feelings were nothing next to the longing he felt. He wished more than anything that he had stayed in Diagon Alley and continued talking to Malfoy, away from all the troubles he had at home. That wasn’t normal, was it?

He shook his head and stopped thinking about it. He made up some excuses to Hermione and left the room, wondering how he could have felt so light just a few minutes ago.

* * *

 

_I can do it. I can do it._

Harry knocked on Ginny’s door, a lump in his throat. He waited, knocked again. The door finally opened and Ginny stood in front of him. They stared at each other uncomfortably, waiting for the other to start.

“Is there something you want?” she asked harshly.

He almost said “ _no, nothing_ ” and ran away but he didn’t. He passed a hand through his messy hair and tried to remember how to breathe correctly. His palms were sweaty and he kept rubbing them on his jeans. He just needed to get this over.

“I just want to talk.”

Ginny stood still for a minute and then let him enter her bedroom. They stared at each other again, Harry more uncomfortable as the seconds became long, painful minutes.

“Well, what do you want to talk about?” she said with stiffness.

Harry took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said while watching his shoes, “I shouldn’t have had sex with you. It makes you unhappy, I see that and…”

“Is that really what you think? You think it made me unhappy?”

He shrugged and Ginny laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh, like Malfoy’s when he noticed Harry doing something stupid. It was humourless and dry, so unlike Ginny and her usual gentleness.

“Harry, it’s not that! It’s how you reacted, after. As if you just wanted to forget what happened, like it wasn’t important.”

“I’m sorry, Ginny.”

Again that laugh. Harry wanted to plug his ears, disappear, get out of this room.

“Why, Harry? Did I disappoint you? Wasn’t I good enough?”

Harry shook his head. He couldn’t stand how her voice was breaking and he couldn’t stand that he was the reason she was like this.

“It’s not you. It’s just… I’m not ready for all of this. You and me as a couple. I can’t. I need time.”

Ginny seemed to relax after that and asked as softly as she could:

“What happened, Harry? What’s wrong?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The war, Harry! Since the battle of Hogwarts, you’re not the same, you’re absent and distant. I’m not stupid, I can see it.”

Harry never wanted her to know. He didn’t want her to know about the part of Voldemort inside him, about his surrender - his suicide, about everything he had finally understood in the Forbidden Forest. He didn’t want her to think that maybe, it was that other part of him who loved her, who wanted her. Ginny put her hand on Harry’s cheek, delicately and got closer. She kissed his forehead, slowly, but it didn’t ease Harry.

“Talk to me…” she whispered. He closed his eyes.

“What do you feel?” he asked.

She laughed and this time, it sounded a little bit more like her.

“You. Your skin, your smell, lemon and honey today, I think.”

He needed to know if she could feel the cold too even if he dreaded her answer. If she did feel it then Harry was sane. But then, something would be very wrong with him...

“Nothing else?”

She didn’t answer. Her kisses were already more passionate as she drifted slowly towards his neck. Harry stopped her and withdrew from her arms.

“Nothing else, you’re sure?” he repeated.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… anything… something unusual.”

She shook her head and tried to kiss him again.

“Why… Why don’t you feel anything?” Harry whispered.

“Harry, you’re not making any sense!”

“He barely touched my arm and he felt it… You kiss me and you don’t feel it. Why?”

“Who are you talking about?”

Harry came to his senses again.

“Nothing. No one. I’m just tired.”

He passed his hand in his untidy hair.

“Harry, I’m worried about you.” Ginny said.

“I know, I think I just need a vacation to get away from all this. Just a few days. I’ll go mad if I don’t.”

“You’re right. I know it’s not easy for you and Hermione. You must feel like you’re living in a tomb. But if you need to go away then you should.”

Harry nodded. He thought Healer Johnson might have been right after all, a vacation away from everything was exactly what he needed.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“It’s just that I love you,” Ginny answered.

Harry didn’t know what to answer so he simply smiled and left.

* * *

 

That night, Harry couldn’t sleep. He was shivering and shaking and he knew it wasn’t normal at all. His three blankets couldn’t warm him, a hot shower couldn’t either. He was panicking all alone in the bathroom, thinking he might go and wake Hermione up. But he wouldn’t know what to tell her, he feared she wouldn’t understand. So, at dawn, he scribbled a message on a piece of parchment: _I need to see you. Same place in an hour. HP._ He told his still unnamed owl not to come back if Malfoy hadn’t agreed.

“Where are you going, Harry?” Ron asked, forty-five minutes later as Harry was about to go outside.

“Just running an errand in Diagon Alley.”

“An errand? So early?” Ron was indeed still in his pajamas, eating cookies Molly had made for last night’s dessert. He also didn’t seem to believe a word Harry said. “Can I come with you then?” Ron added.

“Er, you’ll probably be bored, I just need a… present for Ginny.”

It was the first thing that came to his mind. What would Ron think if Harry came back empty-handed?

“Suit yourself, mate. Why is Hermione mad at you anyway?”

He had his mouth full so it was difficult to understand him but Harry was used to it.

“Hermione’s not mad at me!” he retorted heatedly.

“Yeah, she is."

 Harry was going to be late. “Well, you should ask her because I didn’t notice anything.”

Ron snorted and ate another entire cookie in one bite.

“Harry, you can’t have missed that when you asked her for a loaf of bread last night she gave you the salt shaker.”

“Well she just didn’t understand, I don’t see why it means she’s mad at me.”

“It crashed on your hand and she laughed. Even I noticed she did it on purpose. And she’s avoiding you.”

Harry was getting desperate. He laughed awkwardly and said: “Well, you should be thanking me, it gives you more time to snog her, don’t you think?”

Ron just frowned. “You’re being weird these days, Harry. Are you still going to that Healer?”

“Why are you asking that?”

“You never come straight home afterwards. Yesterday it took you like four hours.”

Oh Merlin, had it really been that long? It certainly didn’t seem that way.

“Are you spying on me?” Harry asked, trying to cut the conversation short.

“I’m just worried, mate.”

 _Why does everyone worry so much_? Harry thought.

“I just, I really have to go, Ron. See you later.”

He didn’t listen to Ron’s protests and Apparated outside the Burrow.

* * *

 

When Harry arrived in front of the old cafe next to Healer Johnson’s office, Malfoy was already there. His hair was even untidier than Harry’s and he was wearing a wrinkled shirt. He looked like he had woke up five minutes ago.

“That owl of yours is a nightmare, Potter. Wouldn’t leave me alone until I said I’d meet you.”

Harry smiled. His greeting might have been a complaint but he was there.

“You came,” Harry couldn’t hide the relief in his voice. It was pathetic.

“Obviously.”

Harry was about enter the cafe when Malfoy grabbed the collar of his jumper.

“Oh no, I’m not going back there. We’ll walk.”

So, like yesterday, the walked side by side. Harry was calm. It was a kind of serenity he felt nowhere else.

“So. You woke me up at 6 am. I hope it’s for a good reason,” Malfoy said nervously.

Harry hadn’t thought about the time nor Malfoy’s probable surprise when he had noticed Harry Potter’s owl at his window, requesting an urgent meeting.

“Did you really feel it? The cold?” Harry was anxiously twisting his hands.

Malfoy frowned, looking genuinely startled by Harry’s question.

“I think so, yes.”

“How was it like?”

Malfoy stopped walking and seemed to lose himself in his thoughts.

“Well, I don’t know, I can’t remember exactly.”

Harry sighed.

“Okay. Touch me then.”

“What?” Malfoy almost yelled.

“Touch me!”

“I don’t want to, Potter!”

He had unconsciously walked away from Harry, bewildered. Whatever he must have imagined when he agreed to come here, it definitely wasn’t that.

“You already did! When you stopped me from paying at the cafe.”

“Yes but I didn’t think about it, I just did it.”

“Well, don’t think about it now. Just do it. Please.”

Malfoy winced and agreed, reluctantly.

“Where do you want me to touch you then? Not the hand and not the arm. Especially not the face, Potter!”

Harry was exasperated. “Which leaves us?”

“Oh alright, the arm then.”

Harry rolled his sleeve and Malfoy touched him. His skin was so white next to Harry’s tan. He felt the warmth instantly.

“So?” Harry asked worriedly.

“Well, what do you want me to say? Yes, it’s cold but it’s not Alaska! Why did you panic like that?”

“I don’t know,” Harry whispered, now feeling slightly stupid. “A panic attack probably.”

“If you think you have a problem, Potter, you should talk to someone who has the required skill to deal with that. Which is absolutely not my case. I’m not a Healer and I’m not your friend.”

Harry frowned, feeling oddly disappointed. “You can stop touching me, now.”

Malfoy removed his hand instantly and looked at him expectantly.

“I was just about to. So, is that all you wanted?”

“What did you expect?” Harry asked while watching the floor, avoiding Malfoy’s intense gaze.

“I thought you couldn’t live without me anymore.”

Harry punched him jokingly on the shoulder.

“Well,” Malfoy resumed, “now that you’re here and that I’m here thanks to your evil owl, do you want to do something?”

Harry pouted. “I have to buy a present for Ginny.”

“I meant something _interesting_ ,” Malfoy mocked. “Did you know there’s a new broom in the Quidditch shop? And that it flies tremendously quickly?” Malfoy leaned close to Harry so that he could whisper in his ear: “And guess what? My dad said he’d buy it for me.”

Malfoy saw Harry’s eyes lit up and his smile widened.

“I knew you’d be interested,” Malfoy said as he started walking at a quick pace which made Harry run behind him to catch up. “I only have to say the word broom and you’re attracted like a fly towards jam.”

“I’m not a fly!” Harry said.

“You look like one, though.” Malfoy was pointing at Harry’s spectacles.

He didn’t reply because he had no good come back; his glasses had always been a part of him anyway and he liked them. It wasn’t even two minutes later when he started asking questions to Malfoy again.

“Do you really like Quidditch?”

Their noses were pressed up against the showcase, eyes shining with desire. The broom was truly beautiful and elegant, light and thin; perfect for a Seeker.

“Of course I do.”

Harry was like a child in front of a toy’s shop. He could see that Malfoy felt just the same and he had no doubt he really liked flying.

“I always thought you entered the team to beat me. And ruin my life as well.”

“Well, I did but it doesn’t mean I don’t like Quidditch.”

Who didn’t like Quidditch? Harry couldn’t wait to start again, it had been too long since he just flew for the sake of it or tried to catch a Snitch.

“Oh, Potter, you’re going to lose this year.”

“The broom doesn’t do everything! There’s talent too. And trust me, Malfoy, you need that more than me.”

Malfoy pretended to be offended. Harry laughed and looked back at the broom in the shop. He liked his own Firebolt but this new broom was something else entirely. Once the shop opened, they both entered, watching and commenting everything. They even started talking about what kind of gloves are best. They were running out of excuses to stay longer.

After a while inside, they made their way outside the shop. Harry knew he had to leave even though he didn’t really want to. His friends were waiting for him, probably worried after his awkward talk with Ron, at the Burrow.

“You forgot the present, for your girlfriend,” Malfoy said suddenly. Harry had completely forgotten about it.

“Never mind. I’ll tell Ron I didn’t find anything.”

“You weren’t really looking, were you?”

“No, not really.”

Malfoy smiled. And that smile made Harry feel funny, dizzy even. For a few seconds, the cold disappeared completely. And yet, Malfoy hadn’t even touched him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry it's been a while. This chapter isn't corrected yet but I hope you still liked it. I promise the schedule I started (one chapter every two weeks) will go back to normal after the 21st of June which is the last day of my exams.


	4. Everything happens for a reason

Harry was back in Healer Johnson’s office, trying to avoid her stern gaze as usual. Despite himself, Harry felt his mind drifting far away from his therapist’s invasive questions. He wondered whether Malfoy truly slept on the couch. There was one next to the desk but the first time Harry came, Healer Johnson told him to sit in front of her as he walked towards the couch. He had been disappointed; if he was going to tell her everything about his life, at least he would have wanted to be comfortable.

“Not the couch then?” Harry had asked.

“Stop watching Muggle TV, Mr Potter.”

The fact that Malfoy had been able to lie there and _sleep_ seemed unbelievable. And unfair. Harry payed her too so why couldn’t he do what he wanted?

“What are you thinking about?” Healer Johnson asked.

“Malfoy,” Harry answered without thinking.

He saw her scribbling a few notes and leaned hastily across the desk to read or rather decipher her terrible writing.

“What are you writing?”

“What you just said.”

Harry was horrified.

“That I was thinking about Malfoy? It’s not important! It was just… I mean, I wasn’t thinking about Malfoy as a person, I just thought of something he said and…”

He stopped and sighed, crossed his arms around his chest and found himself watching the ceiling to avoid yet again Healer Johnson’s eyes. The truth was, he thought about Malfoy, as a person, quite a lot. He didn’t just think about the stupid things he said, even if he did think about those as well. Sometimes, he counted the days before a session with Healer Johnson. He wondered if they’d meet, where they’d go, what they’d say. He imagined their conversations.

Harry was no fool. He noticed that he drifted away from Ron and Hermione and grew closer to Malfoy. Though he didn’t blame his two best friends; he knew they were in love and at least that way they could spend time together as a couple. After all, it was all new to them. Therefore this new friendship with Malfoy seemed to arrive just in time. It made him feel less lonely.

“You see each other from time to time, don’t you?” Healer Johnson asked.

Harry said yes.

“He’s not that annoying and pretentious then, is he?”

Harry huffed. Malfoy would never change that part of his temper, that was for sure. “He still is but I don’t mind quite as much as I used to.”

“Explain that to me, please.”

Harry thought about that for a moment. It was nice to put his thoughts in order and explain orally why he didn’t want to hit Malfoy every time he opened his mouth anymore.

“I think he does that voluntarily. He plays with that aspect of his personality. And that moron knows perfectly well that it annoys me. It amuses him. And when you understand that…”

“Then it becomes amusing for you as well.”

Harry nodded. The feather had finally stopped scratching.

“Do you think he understands you?”

Harry agreed again. Healer Johnson asked him if he thought that since Malfoy came to her as well they had something in common.

“Yes, there’s that but not only. He’s not close to me like my friends are and he’s not afraid to be blunt with me which is something I appreciate. He’s not scared to joke around me and to talk openly about the war, to ask questions others would not.”

Harry laughed nervously. Malfoy was definitely not scared of asking him rude questions.

“Have you cried since the end of the war?”

Healer Johnson’s question took Harry by surprise:

“It’s useless, isn’t it? It won’t bring my family and friends back.”

“It would give you relief, Mr Potter.”

Harry felt guilty because he hadn’t cried. Not about Tonks or Fred or the countless other dead people. He kept everything inside, scared of letting it go.

“It just won’t bring them back.”

“I know that but we’re not talking about them. We’re talking about you and the way you completely shut your emotions.”

The clock hissed. Time was up. She closed her notebook as he got up, relieved.

“I’m glad you’re seeing Mr Malfoy,” Healer Johnson said, “because you’re both the best at ignoring your emotions. Perhaps it will do you good to speak with him. I suppose you two have even more in common than you thought.”

Harry knew that Malfoy came here for a reason but it didn’t seem alright to ask questions about what happened in here, what he talked about (or not since he supposedly slept). He didn’t want to think about the past anymore, especially when he was with Malfoy. He couldn’t help but ask as he was about to step out of the office: “Does he actually sleep here?”

Healer Johnson smiled but didn’t answer and told him not to come back next week.

“What?”

“I want you to go on a holiday next week and go far away from London.”

She opened the door and Harry got out, puzzled about her request. Nevertheless his eyes scanned the waiting room, feeling almost feverish and dizzy as he searched restlessly for blond hair. He was probably getting ill. Yes, he spent a lot of time going outside and then stepping back inside where the air conditioning was always on.

Disappointed, Harry left the office and felt a weight leaving his shoulders as he noticed a familiar figure. Malfoy was leaning on the wall by the door of the office, distracted by the numerous witches and wizards walking close by. Suddenly, he turned his head and he was watching Harry, grey eyes piercing his skin. He straightened his back and walked towards Healer Johnson’s office. Harry stared with amazement at his clothes; he had left his suit and was wearing a Muggle t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He looked ordinary and approachable which was not usually the case.

Malfoy walked past him without a word but Harry felt a hand slipping inside his, leaving a note. Harry turned around and unfolded the note, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

_Wait for me in an hour at the Leaky Cauldron._

Harry slipped the note inside his pocket. He was smiling like a fool.

* * *

 

Harry sat alone on a stool, away from everyone else, trying to keep his head low. Everyone wanted to shake his hand or ask for an autograph these days. He took a sip of his Butterbeer, wondering what the bloody hell was taking so long in Healer Johnson’s office when Malfoy sat silently in front of him.

“Slept well?”

“It wasn’t bad,” Malfoy answered with a yawn.

Malfoy tried to call a waiter to order a drink but they all pretended he didn’t exist. He sighed and let his hand drop on the table, his fist tense. Harry pushed his own drink towards Malfoy because his defeated face didn’t look good on him. He accepted the drink and took a long sip. Harry thought of putting his own lips exactly where Malfoy had drunk but frowned as the thought appeared in his mind, it made no sense at all to him. Why would he do that? It made him feel dizzy again; he was now sure he had the flu.

“I should probably make a sort of statement,” Harry began while clearing his throat, “everyone would know your mother saved my life. They’d stop treating you like a pariah, wouldn’t they?”

“I’m not sure it’ll help.”

“But you didn’t kill anyone!”

Malfoy sighed and looked blankly at the wall behind Harry. He seemed exhausted and weary.

“My father did. Can we talk about something else?”

Harry nodded quickly, eager to change the subject: “I’m supposed to go on a holiday.”

“She told me to leave next week as well.”

“I don’t even know where to go… I’ve never been on a holiday before.”

“You could pick a random spot.”

He got up and took an old globe lamp abandoned on a shelf. It seemed to be Muggle and Harry wondered what it was doing in the Leaky Cauldron. Malfoy cleaned it a bit and passed it to Harry.

“Now, I’ll make it spin and you have to promise to close your eyes and choose randomly.”

“What if I end up in the middle of the ocean?”

“Well you’ll have to buy a swimming suit then.”

Harry promised and closed his eyes. He let his finger touch a random spot on the globe and opened his eyes.

“England! Well, that’s a surprise.”

“It isn’t England. Move your hand,” Malfoy said as he watched closer.

It wasn’t England. It was a small dot in the middle of the sea, almost indistinguishable. Guernsey.

“You see, not that bad. My turn.”

Malfoy made the globe spin again and closed his eyes. Harry watched him, noticed how pale his skin was and how elegant he looked, even in simple Muggle clothes. A girl would definitely find him beautiful.

“What a coincidence!” Malfoy said, watching his finger on the exact same spot.

“You did it on purpose!”

Malfoy put a hand over his chest, pretended to be offended. “How could I have done that?”

Harry was outraged. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You promised you’d go wherever you touched the map. A promise is a promise.”

Malfoy looked very pleased with himself; it exasperated Harry more than anything.

“Healer Johnson told us to go alone,” Harry said as a last weak protest.

“Since when do you actually listen to her? Come on, Potter, it’ll be… interesting.”

Malfoy got up, told Harry to pack his bags and left. Was it a good idea to go away with him? After thinking about it for a while, Harry found he was more than okay with it. Why not? What scared him the most was that the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to go with him. Leaving England alone would be even worse than going on a holiday with Malfoy. His heart was a little lighter as he left the Leaky Cauldron. 

* * *

The next morning, during breakfast, Harry almost spat his pumpkin juice when he saw a majestic owl arriving at the Burrow’s window. Mrs Weasley got up and opened the window. The owl flew directly towards Harry. Watched closely by his friends, Harry quickly detached the letter and thanked the bird.

“Looks like Malfoy’s owl!” Ron joked as he ate his cereals. “You know, a huge owl just like this one used to bring him packages almost every day! When you think about it, even his owl seemed pretentious.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself before he could because he realized he was about to defend Malfoy. He felt his cheeks burn. Ron frowned and stopped eating, leaving his spoon hanging mid-air.

“Is it Malfoy’s owl?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Hermione answered before Harry could. “Why would Malfoy send Harry an owl?”

“Yeah, you’re right, it was stupid.”

For once, Ron had been slightly more perspicacious than Hermione.

“You’re not opening your letter?” Ginny asked Harry.

“Oh… yes, right away…” Watched by at least three pairs of eyes, Harry opened the letter and saw a train ticket fall on his knees. He read quickly the note attached to it.

_See, you have to come now, Potter. I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow at 11 o’clock, same platform as always. Don’t forget to pack and don’t be late. DM._

Since everyone was watching him, Harry bit his cheeks to stop himself from smiling. Lately, he seemed to be doing that a lot. Stopping himself from showing his happiness, from smiling, from thinking about Malfoy… It was frustrating.

“Just my train ticket,” Harry said.

“To go where?” Ron asked, his mouth full of cereals.

“Er, you know, my vacation. I’m going to Guernsey.”

He hoped no one would ask him why he chose that particular location. Molly lifted her head and stopped reading the Quibbler.

“Arthur and I spent our honeymoon there!”

Ron and Ginny rolled their eyes. It seemed it was not the first time they heard this story.

“It’s such a romantic place!” she continued. “The coast is beautiful and the weather is usually lovely at this time of year. Why don’t you take Ginny with you?”

Harry almost banged his head on the table.

“Mum! The Healer said he’d have to go alone!” Ginny protested.

“Oh, right. Well, there’s a nice all-wizard town there, Harry, you’ll see. Very touristic.”

Hermione frowned and asked: “Why did you choose Guernsey if it’s touristic then? I thought you’d want to get away from people.”

Harry shrugged uncertainly. _Because Malfoy chose for me_ , he thought. That was definitely not a good answer.

“You’re not going to feel lonely, there, aren’t you?” Mrs Weasley asked, full of concern.

“I’ll be fine, Mrs Weasley, don’t worry.”

He was not going to be alone at all.

* * *

Harry was going down the stairs excitedly, a rucksack on his shoulder and a huge bag in his hand. He felt both excited and scared just like the first time he went to Hogwarts so many years ago. But he wasn’t going there. He was going to Guernsey with Malfoy.

“Hurry up, you’ll miss your train!” Mrs Weasley told him. “And have fun!”

Harry said goodbye to everyone and Apparated. Already, he felt reckless and it was _good_.

* * *

King’s Cross Station was crowded as usual. Muggles were also leaving London to enjoy a well-deserved holiday. Harry ran to Platform 9 3/4 and crossed unnoticed. Malfoy was already waiting for him.

“10:53. Well done, Potter!” he said furiously.

“The train’s still here.” Harry simply answered, out of breath.

“You haven’t forgotten your ticket, have you?”

Harry checked. “No, it’s there.”

“And what are you carrying? We’re not leaving for three months, it’s only a week! You’re worse than a girl.”

“It’s the tent!” Harry said, exasperated.

“The tent? What are you doing with a tent, Potter?”

“Well, camping of course.”

Malfoy laughed. “Is that joke?”

“No!” Harry answered, slightly offended.

“You do know we’re wizards, right? You could have shrunk it or whatever! I’m sure Granger could have helped with that.”

"I didn’t want to use magic all the time. Where are you sleeping?”

It also reminded him of the tent in which he, Ron and Hermione had slept during their hunt for Horcruxes. He wanted a real Muggle-like experience.

“In a hotel, of course!” Malfoy said, forcing Harry to stop daydreaming. “Are you telling me you took a _Muggle_ tent with you?”

Harry said yes.

“Can I leave you on the platform?” Malfoy asked.

“We’re taking the same train, it doesn’t mean we’ll spend the same holiday! By the way, can you tell me why we’re taking a train to go to an island?”

Malfoy said that the train would take them to Guernsey through the bottom of the ocean.

“Can I stay on the platform?” Harry asked with a small laugh.

Malfoy shook his head and dragged Harry inside the train while swearing.

“Camping, I swear to Merlin… Camping!”

Harry smiled; Malfoy was yet again overplaying an outraged act. This holiday already seemed to prove itself interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, chapter 4 on time. I'm thinking about publishing a new chapter every week now that I only have one oral exam to pass in the beginning of July, tell me if you think it's a good idea or if you would prefer a slower rhythm!


	5. Too many questions

The train left the station at 11 o’clock sharp. Harry and Malfoy had barely sat down. Outside, some wizards were saying goodbye to their relatives, waving their arms until they couldn’t see the train. With a long sigh, Harry renounced putting his bag on the luggage track above him, it was too heavy. Malfoy hadn’t even got up to help him, he had simply watched as he tried again and again, amused. Harry let his bag fall, out of breath again. He definitely had to exercise more.

“Can you help me or is it too much to ask?”

“It is.”

”Scared you’ll break something, Malfoy?”

Malfoy watched Harry innocently.

“No, not at all. I just want you to admit it was stupid to bring a Muggle tent.”

“It was not!”

“You’ll see it though. First, you’ll have to carry it everywhere. Then, you won’t be able to set it up correctly, your back will be sore and finally, you’ll have to sleep outside in the cold.”

Harry tried to keep his face blank but he couldn’t help but wince. He hadn’t thought of that. He would never admit it to Malfoy but he also didn’t quite know how to set up a tent without magic or Hermione. He had assumed it’d be easy.

“You’re already regretting, aren’t you?” Malfoy said.

“No, I’m not. At least it’ll be… picturesque.”

“Well, you’re right about that. For what it’s worth, I promise I won’t make fun of you that much. And if it rains, you’ll be welcome to camp next to my huge and comfortable bed. Perhaps I’ll even let you take a bath in my enormous tub if you can’t handle the camping’s cold showers.”

Harry crossed his arms and didn’t reply. He might have made a mistake thinking he’d be able to enjoy a nice relaxing holiday in a Muggle camping. He grabbed his bag and started throwing all the sweets he had taken on the seat next to him.

“You’re not going to eat during the entire trip, are you?”

“Yeah, I am,” Harry answered while eating a Chocolate Frog.

Harry threw a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans at Malfoy, feeling playful. He burst out laughing and protected his face. His laugh was spontaneous and didn’t sound like him at all. Malfoy caught one sweet and put it in his mouth.

“Mmh. Lemon.”

Harry tried one himself and winced.

“I think mine was soap.”

“You’re so out of luck, Potter. I bet it’ll rain every day.”

* * *

Lying on the familiar bench of the train, Harry was reading the touristic guide he had bought earlier. Malfoy was tapping his foot and had done so for several minutes now. Harry had tried to ignore it but he was now incapable of focusing on the guide.

“What?”

“I’m bored,” Malfoy answered.

“Read something. Or sleep.”

“I don’t want to.”

Harry raised his arms helplessly. “I don’t have any other idea!”

Malfoy had a perfidious look on his face. “Let’s play a game.”

“Don’t you see I’m reading?”

“Yes and it’s quite surprising to be honest. I didn’t know you could hold a book the right way.”

Harry, irritated, didn’t answer and kept reading. Malfoy got up and took the guide from Harry’s hands, ignoring his protests.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to ask each other questions and we have to answer them with honesty.”

“I don’t want to answer your questions, Malfoy!”

“Perhaps, yes. But you’re dying to ask me some, aren’t you?”

Harry thought about it for a minute before agreeing. Malfoy was once more right. There were loads of things Harry wanted to know about him, things he couldn’t simply ask in a normal conversation. Malfoy said he’d even let Harry start.

“Are you really sleeping on the couch when you’re with Healer Johnson?”

“You really are fascinated about that! Well, if you must know, yes, I actually sleep there. I think she prefers me that way because she doesn’t have to stare at me for an hour, asking me questions she knows I won’t answer.”

Harry groaned. She didn’t even let him lie down on the couch but she allowed Malfoy to sleep in her office!

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you ever told her?” Malfoy asked.

Harry thought about not answering, he really did. But he knew Malfoy would spot the lie instantly. He wasn’t a very good liar.

“I told her about Ginny.”

“What about her?”

“I answered the question, it’s my turn now. Why do you see Healer Johnson if you don’t talk to her?”

“It’s quite simple, I only go there because my mother makes me. And it allows me to get out of the Manor. Why did you talk to her about your girlfriend?”

Harry sighed. He knew Malfoy would ask that.

“We sort of… broke up, I guess.”

“That’s not embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not,” Harry said quickly.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No, I don’t. Besides, I’m sure that what’s embarrassing is the reason why you two broke up.”

“I messed up… _something_ I shouldn’t have.”

Malfoy sniffed. “Well, that’s enigmatic.”

“The truth is…” Harry started. “The truth is, I slept with her, Malfoy, but for the wrong reasons. Well, not for the same reasons as hers which is already a bad thing. She did it because she loved me and I did it to feel… alive. Or to feel something at least, to stop feeling like a living and talking corpse. And it didn’t even work. Next morning, I felt even worse.”

Harry seemed to sink into his own seat, his cheeks bright red. He looked away and tried to avoid Malfoy’s eyes.

“Well, that was honest. Your turn.”

“I don’t like your game.”

“Come on. One last.”

Harry thought for a second. "Did it leave a scar? _Sectumsempra_?”

Malfoy bit his lower lip and lifted his shirt. Harry immediately saw the pink traces of several small scars, on his chest and over his stomach. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it. It wasn’t repulsive, not at all, because of everything around it. Harry couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering lower… It was suddenly hot in the train compartment.

Malfoy put his shirt back. Harry breathed again.

“What were you about to cast?” Harry asked, passing a hand through his hair.

“The Cruciatus Curse, I think.”

The past had invited itself into their conversation, like a ghost. It was never far away anyway.

“Why are you here, with me, in this train? You hate me.”

“I hat _ed_ you,” Malfoy answered in a whisper.

“What changed?”

“I don’t know.” And for the first time, Malfoy was answering while looking away as if he couldn’t stand Harry’s gaze. “Why did you let him kill you?”

Harry knew what Malfoy was referring to.

“I had to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Harry couldn’t breathe, he felt trapped. “I… that, I can’t… I have to go, I’ll walk.”

Harry got up abruptly, knocked his head on the luggage track, swore under his breath.

“Potter, wait!” Malfoy said, catching his wrist.

Harry didn’t listen, he pulled his arm from Malfoy’s grip and opened the compartment’s door. Once outside, he walked until he arrived at the end of the corridor and let himself fall to the floor. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly, in and out. What was he supposed to answer? _I had to kill Voldemort and Voldemort was me?_

* * *

 

When Harry came back half an hour later, Malfoy was reading the guide Harry had left behind.

“It’s upside down,” Harry said, making Malfoy jump.

“Oh, right. Must be epidemic.”

Malfoy was definitely blushing.

“Unless I’m a bad influence.”

Malfoy smiled and answered: “You’ve _always_ been a bad influence. Listen… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that before.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Is Draco Malfoy actually apologizing to me?”

“I can take it back, if you want.”

“No,” Harry answered softly. “Look, I can’t talk about that, it’s too soon.”

“I know.”

Harry knew that Malfoy had also seen horrors and that he had his own nightmares. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to live under the same roof as Voldemort for an entire year.

Suddenly, the train jolted as it started moving down and everything became dark.

“What…?”

“The sea, Potter. We’re under the water.”

Harry didn’t now how he expected the crossing to be but it wasn’t like that. He expected something beautiful he could remember with enthusiasm later. Not complete darkness and Malfoy’s ghostly features staring worriedly at him thanks to two small lamps in the compartment. The silence was oppressing… and the cold was coming back.

“I think I’m becoming claustrophobic,” Harry said.

“What were you expecting?”

“Not _that_.”

“Well, knowing you, I’m sure you expected a turquoise sea and multicolored fishes…”

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

Harry had said it with a smile which made Malfoy laugh. They lied down on their seats.

“Can someone be seasick in a train?”

“Don’t you dare, Potter!”

* * *

 It was a dream. It had to be.

He was watching himself in a mirror in a dark room. There was an ancient chandelier creaking above him. He could see a scrawny boy, not very tall, with spectacles and a lightning bolt scar.

He put his hand on the mirror. It burned. He yelled in pain and tried to take it away but his skin seemed to have melted on the mirror. And there was something, inside him, moving. It was real, alive and cold. It seemed to move towards his throat, very slowly. Harry was choking. And in the mirror, Harry saw. He saw a head coming out of his mouth. It was a snake’s head, shiny and menacing…

* * *

He had probably screamed during his sleep because when he opened his eyes, not exactly knowing where he was, Malfoy was above him, trying to wake him.

“I’m going to be sick,” Harry said, a hand over his mouth.

“Oh, no. No and no. Breathe, in and out, slowly. Come on, Potter.”

“I need air.”

“There’s none! Just breathe, okay?”

“I can’t, I’m choking!”

Malfoy took his face in his hand. Told Harry to breathe again and again, slowly. His voice was only a whisper, soft like a feather. And the hands on his face were strong yet gentle and warm. Harry couldn’t help but think that Malfoy smelled really good.

“It was a nightmare, it wasn’t real.”

“I’m not so sure,” Harry answered as he leaned towards Malfoy a bit more.

He closed his eyes and appreciated Malfoy’s warmth and his perfume.

“I didn’t see any snake.”

Malfoy pushed him back against the cushion as Harry blinked, surprised.

“I talked about a snake?”

Malfoy nodded and let go of the face he still held roughly. Harry realised he didn’t want Malfoy to go. He would have gladly seized his hands and put them back on his face. It was nice and comforting.

“We’re almost there,” Malfoy said as he sat back.

“Finally. After dreaming that a snake was eating my guts and coming out of my mouth…”

“You’re having weird dreams, Potter. No wonder you need a mind Healer. I always knew there was something wrong with your brain.”

“Something wrong with my brain? Remind me where we met this summer!”

Malfoy smiled. He had been joking all along.

The train started to go up again without slowing down. Harry wasn’t prepared at all and was thrown forward. He lost his balance and fell on Malfoy. He should have jumped backwards instantly. Instead, he stayed on top of Malfoy, paralyzed by his face so close and his eyes invading his range of vision.

“You’re crushing me!” Harry heard.

Yet, Malfoy wasn’t pushing him either. He could have. He _should_ have. Harry got up as light started to fill the train again. They had left the sea.

He returned to his seat, his face burning. The coast was truly beautiful. Harry didn’t know where to look. He noticed Malfoy staring at the island as well. He was smiling.

“Well, now you just need to find a spot to plant your tent!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, I will upload a new chapter every Monday now and for as long as I can! I hope you'll like this shorter chapter, the next one will focus on their trip!  
> Find me on Tumblr: casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com


	6. Sea sight

The train stopped, screeching loudly on the railways. Malfoy got out and jumped on the platform, his light rucksack on his shoulder. Harry would have gladly copied him but his luggage was too heavy. He made it outside before the train took off but he was yet again breathless. He could barely see Malfoy fading rapidly among the crowd of tourists. He could decide to follow him. Or not. He hadn’t decided yet. The truth was, he hadn’t even thought about it and told himself he’d find a solution when the time came. And now that he had to make the decision, he had no idea what to do.

He was still on the platform when Malfoy turned around and rolled his eyes. He came back.

“What are you waiting for, Potter?”

“I don’t want to stay at a hotel.”

“I understood that, yes. But what’s so bad about it? Sleeping well in a warm bed?”

“I just wanted to do something I hadn’t done yet!”

“And have you slept in a 4 stars hotel yet?”

Harry had to admit he didn’t. He hated that Malfoy was always right.

“But what kind of young adults do that?” Harry started, “Leaving on an impulse and spending a holiday in a luxurious hotel? I mean, unless you’re snob and rich, I don’t see who would do that…”

“Well, I am snob and rich. I’ll sleep at the hotel.”

Harry answered that he could bloody well do whatever he wanted.

“Does that mean you’re not coming with me?” Malfoy asked.

When he noticed that Harry wasn’t planning to answer, he continued: “Well, you should go to your stupid Muggle camping then and plant your tent in the middle of nowhere.”

Harry nodded firmly, trying to look more determined than he actually was.

“Well, that’s settled then. Have a nice holiday,” Malfoy said dryly as he started to walk away.

Harry didn’t answer and watched Malfoy walk away until he couldn’t see him. He was biting his lower lip nervously. Now what? He would have preferred to stay with Malfoy even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Spending a week on this island didn’t seem as great as it did a few minutes ago now that he was alone. He thought about his cold nights and his nightmares; it only made him want to run after Malfoy and ask him to come back. It was pathetic but he would have done so if he had no pride and dignity. Harry wanted to believe that he could overcome his loneliness.

He grabbed his bag and sighed as he started walking towards the camping site.

* * *

The town was close to the sea and its houses and boats were all painted with pastel colors. Harry could taste the salt on his tongue as he breathed. Despite all his apprehensions, he had “chosen” a good place. He even smiled as he saw tourists coming back from the beach with parasols and sun burns everywhere. One of them, a child, was watching him with curious eyes and kicking his sister on the shoulder.

“Look! It’s Harry Potter! There!” Harry had almost forgotten there was an all-wizard town on the island. He was brought back to reality by this little boy and hid his scar with his hair as much as he could and kept his head bent. Why hadn’t he brought sun glasses and a cap?

His stomach growled. He decided to sit in the first restaurant he saw, in front of the sea. The view was beautiful and there were children laughing and adults watching them fondly. Harry envied them. He felt old and bitter.

“May I?”

Harry looked up and saw a familiar face. “How did you find me?”

“I wasn’t looking for you. If you hadn’t noticed, this is a very small town,” Malfoy replied.

“What about your hotel?”

“I settled in my room and found out there isn’t any restaurant inside the hotel. I was hungry so I chose the first restaurant I saw. But of course, I can leave you to share dinner with that huge rucksack of yours.”

Harry shook his head. “Its conversation is very limited.”

Malfoy sat in front of him. While Harry was walking, Malfoy had apparently showered (his hair was still wet) and changed into Muggle clothes, perhaps thinking of taking a walk towards the Muggle side of the island after dinner. He looked really nice. Harry noticed he was staring and stopped right away.

“Have you ordered yet?” Malfoy asked.

“No, not yet. I don’t…”

Malfoy didn’t let him finish, raised his hand and called for a waitress. “A bottle of white wine and two platters of seafood.”

Harry was trying hard not to laugh. “You can’t help yourself, can’t you? You just have to choose for me! What makes you think I even like seafood?”

Malfoy shrugged. The waitress came back with a bottle of wine, dragging her feet, apparently unhappy to serve them all evening. Malfoy tasted it, looking extremely focused and then nodded.

“Definitely not fresh enough,” he said at last.

“No one cares that you’re used to so much better, Malfoy.”

He didn’t answer and simply raised his glass. “To our holiday?”

Harry stared at him, perhaps too long. “To our holiday.”

They ate shells Harry didn’t even know existed. And they drank. Probably too much since Harry wasn’t used to it at all. His head was spinning. Surely, it was because of the wine that they talked and laughed so much. Malfoy wasn’t his friend but talking with him was better than a session with Healer Johnson, better than therapy. He could remember Hogwarts without thinking about the war and all the dead bodies everywhere. They talked about everything they had done to each other, the stupid songs Malfoy invented about Ron and Harry but there wasn’t any animosity between them.

“Wait, wait, it’s coming back!” Malfoy said while sipping wine. “ _His eyes are green like a toad and he is…_ ”

“Divine?” Harry finished, laughing.

“Obviously not! More something like hideous, I think. How did you keep walking in the corridors as if nothing happened after such a humiliation?”

“Well, you dated Pansy Parkinson so that’s even worse.”

“Except I never _actually_ went out with her!” Malfoy answered with a smirk.

“What? What about the Yule Ball then?”

“It was a cover. I needed a partner and she said she’d go with me, that’s all. But you can imagine that if I had ever developed any interest towards girls, I would have picked a much better looking one, of course.”

His tone was light but Harry reckoned Malfoy was suddenly much more serious.

“What do you mean? You’re not interested in girls?”

Malfoy looked irritated. Harry didn’t know if he was just angry at him or simply angry with himself.

“So what? Do you have a problem with that?”

“Er, no, not at all,” Harry began, scratching the top of his head, puzzled. “It’s just, if you don’t like girls, then what do you like?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I like hippogriffs, Potter.”

“Hippogriffs, right…”

Malfoy burst out laughing. Shaking his head, he filled his glass with wine again. They were already at their second bottle. Malfoy put it back on the table abruptly and sighed.

“Men, Potter. I like men. I’m gay.”

“Oh,” Harry said eloquently, dazed both by the revelation and by what it implied.

“Oh what?”

“Nothing. It’s just that I’d never have guessed.”

“Well, of course you wouldn’t. You’re as perspicacious as a goldfish.”

That much was true. Harry never noticed anything even if it was right under his nose. Malfoy hadn’t really been with any girl during school. Pansy might have stroked his hair once or twice but that didn’t mean anything. He had never held a girl’s hand in the corridors at Hogwarts. Nor a boy’s hand now that he thought about it. Of course, Harry could understand why. So many people would have been shocked. Perhaps his parents wouldn’t accept him if they knew.

Harry didn’t care. He pictured Malfoy in Hogwarts, kissing a boy, hidden in an empty classroom. But he stopped right away because he didn’t like that image at all.

“Tomorrow,” Malfoy began, “when I’m not hungover, I’ll regret telling you this. If I do remember something. But you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Of course not.”

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest.

“I see what you’re thinking now, Potter. You probably understand better why I was so scared and acting like a coward all the time or some utter crap like that.”

“No, that’s not what I’m thinking at all!”

He couldn’t exactly tell Malfoy he’d been picturing him kissing other boys, right?

“Then what? You’re happy we’re not sleeping in the same tent? Happy that my hands are above the table so you can see them? You can just relax, you’re not my type at all.”

“Am I that ugly?”

Visibly surprised, Malfoy almost spat out the sip of wine he had just taken. He wiped his chin with a napkin.

“Are you disappointed that I might find you ugly?” he asked.

"No!” Harry replied, too quickly.

“Let me look at you.”

Malfoy rolled up his sleeves, put his elbows on the table and then, his eyes slightly glassy, he started to watch Harry. He looked at every single detail on his face. His scar, his nose, his mouth. He avoided the eyes though. Harry was uncomfortable and he wished Malfoy would stop. He wasn’t scared of the results. But he couldn’t move nor breathe, his cheeks were bright red. Malfoy, still leaning on the table, was smiling.

“I’ve seen worse,” he said at last. “Even shagged worse.”

Harry was horrified. “Well, that wasn’t necessary!”

“Sorry. I drank too much.”

He stretched while yawning and asked Harry if he wanted to take a walk on the beach.

The sky was completely dark now and there seemed to be millions of stars up there.

“I don’t know,” Harry hesitated, “It’s quite late.”

“And you still have a tent to plant.”

Harry felt his shoulders drop. After the long trip and the alcohol, he was exhausted. He really started to think the tent was a terrible idea.

“My hotel isn’t that far. I’ll let you sleep on the floor tonight, if you want. You’ll find your camping tomorrow.”

“That’s why you made me drink, right? Because you knew I’d have to sleep at the hotel!”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s alright, Malfoy, you win. I’ll sleep there but just tonight.”

Malfoy looked way too satisfied to Harry’s liking. They left the restaurant in a comfortable silence. They weren’t talking yet Harry felt completely relaxed and didn’t feel the need to try and start a conversation. They took off their shoes when they approached the sea and touched the cold water with the tip of their toes. They could feel the waves and see the town’s lights and hear the soft sound of laughter in the restaurants. They were in another world.

Malfoy spread his arms wide and yelled, looking at the sky. He almost howled. Then, he wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulders, making him jump.

“Don’t you find that amazing?”

Harry agreed in a very small voice. He felt tiny.

“You wanted to feel alive. What do you think about that?”

Harry felt more alive than ever. But he didn’t know whether it was because of the infinite sea in front of them, the waves licking their feet, feeling like they were alone in the world… or Malfoy’s arm on his shoulder.

“Come on,” Malfoy said with a mean look on his face. “First to arrive at the hotel gets to sleep on the bed.”

Then, he started running. Harry swore and followed him but he had a huge head start. Also, Harry was still carrying his heavy bags and Malfoy knew that. When he laboriously arrived in front of the hotel, Malfoy was already waiting for him, sitting on a bench.

“Well, that took you a while. You didn’t even try.”

“Like you would have given me your bed if I won.”

“True.”

The small hotel was at the end of a paved street, hidden from the main pathway. The painting was fading from the walls and the few flowers on the windows were in need of water. It didn’t look like the 4 stars hotel Malfoy had talked about. His room wasn’t even that luxurious at all. It had a certain charm though and it felt like cosy with all the pillows and the old flowery wallpaper. Harry would have done anything to sleep on the bed, it looked warm and comfortable.

“It’s not a 4 stars hotel,” Harry stated.

“I know. My parents didn’t want me to leave on my own. They thought it was stupid and that I just had to wait a few weeks to leave with them in Greece, Italy or whatever. But I said no and they told me that if I wanted to go, I’ll have to pay with my own money. And I don’t have that much money.”

Harry sat in an armchair. “They’re tough with you, your parents?”

“Tough, I don’t know. They were both raised a certain way. Especially my father. They thought they were raising me the hard way for my own good. But it doesn’t mean they don’t love me. On the contrary, they love me _too_ much. They’re constantly on my back, I can’t do anything without them… And you’re making me talk because I’m drunk, Potter.”

Malfoy started changing, took his shirt off and told Harry he could use the bathroom first. Harry ran there, his heart beating. He closed his eyes. He could still see Malfoy’s back. He shook his head. Alcohol was making him lose his mind. Before getting out, Harry carefully opened the door and checked if Malfoy was still changing. When he saw that he was already in bed, looking asleep under the covers, he got out safely.

He lay down on the couch. It was uncomfortable but better than the floor.

“Try not to have nightmares tonight, Potter.”

Harry, who thought Malfoy was asleep, held back a gasp.“I’m not doing it on purpose but I’ll do my best.”

“And don’t snore.”

“I _never_ snore.”

Harry saw Malfoy’s head coming out from under the covers. He looked sleepy, disheveled and somehow _attractive_. It was so unlike him. Harry liked discovering different side of him.

“That’s exactly what snorers say.”

“Shut up!”

He got back under the covers. “Good night, Potter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 6, I hope you liked it! As always, you can find me on Tumblr: casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com


	7. A bruised soul

Harry woke up. He didn’t remember where he was. He felt cold and his entire body was shaking. He couldn’t breathe no matter how hard he tried to calm himself. He could still see two red eyes staring at him… His back, mistreated by the uncomfortable couch, seemed to be pierced by countless needles. Harry wanted to curl inside his bed back at the Burrow and fall asleep again.

He blinked. He thought he heard someone breathing close to him. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw a shape leaning towards him. He yelled and pushed back the covers, ready to run. Suddenly, the light was on and Harry received water on his face.

“What…”

“I said no nightmare!”

That git. It was Malfoy, in front of the couch, hands on his hips. For a moment, Harry could only see his long naked legs and a white t-shirt. He then noticed the vase he held, empty because all the water was on Harry’s face.

“You’re completely mad!” Harry yelled. “I’m soaked wet!”

“You screamed and talked in your sleep.”

“What did I say?”

“Just that I was brilliant, beautiful and that you had never known anyone smarter. Do I need to worry?”

Harry pretended to laugh. He checked his watch. It was four am in the morning. Harry yawned; he felt tired, stiff and cold. Malfoy, on the other hand, looked wide awake and ready to start the day. He sat down on the couch and took Harry’s spectacles from the floor where he had left them earlier. He put them on and pretended to grab a notebook and a pen and started writing.

“So, Mr Potter, tell me about your nightmare. A girl, you’re telling me? Ah, a redhead… That’s not a good sign. What was she telling you? I see, I see, could you repeat that so I can write it down? _Harry, why did you give me STDs instead of an orgasm,_ is that correct?”

Harry kicked him with his foot. “That’s really low, Malfoy, even for you. Using my confidences to laugh at me!”

Malfoy couldn’t stop laughing.

 _What an idiot_! Harry thought, looking away.

“Oh, pouting then, Potter?” Malfoy asked as he tried to pinch his cheek.

“Don’t!” Harry said, squirming to get away.

On the other side of the couch, Malfoy stopped laughing, took off the spectacles and gave them back to Harry.

“You talked about You-Know-Who while you slept. You said something like leave me alone and then you started screaming and begged him to get out.”

“And that’s it?”

Harry tried to act like he didn’t care but he knew what it meant. He didn’t remember exactly what he had dreamt about but now he was sure. He had dreamt of the mirror, of the red eyes instead of his green ones, of the snake coming out of his mouth.

“Yes, that’s it. I was scared you’d hurt yourself because you were shaking and you almost fell off the couch so I shook you. You wouldn’t wake up so I threw water on you.”

“Dreams don’t mean anything,” Harry said to reassure himself. It didn’t work though.

“Do you think about the war?”

Harry wasn’t expecting this question. He wanted to ignore it, close his eyes and fall back asleep. But Malfoy kept watching him. And in his eyes, Harry saw that the question hadn’t been easy to ask.

“Yes, every day.”

“Me too.”

They looked at each other. Harry thought Malfoy understood what he was going through.

“What happened in the forest?” Harry looked panicked so Malfoy immediately said: “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Harry knew that but he wanted to talk. He needed to.

“Voldemort split his soul in seven parts and put them in objects that symbolized something for his twisted mind. A part of his soul accidentally ended up stuck inside me when he tried to kill me for the first time. Anyway, to kill Voldemort, we needed to destroy every single part of his soul. The one inside me as well. So I had to die. I let him kill me.”

Malfoy looked petrified. He opened his mouth and closed it, unsure of what to say.

“It’s horrible.”

“I know,” Harry replied.

“But you survived. How?”

“It’s complicated. I’ll explain one day but not tonight, I’m too tired.”

Malfoy nodded. “You should dry yourself. You’ll be sick if you don’t.”

Harry got up and went to the bathroom. He looked terrible but he dried himself quickly with a spell and changed clothes. He came back into the room, a question burning his lips.

“Did you know it was me, back at the manor?”

“Of course I knew it was you, Potter, I saw your face nearly every day for six years.”

“But you said you weren’t sure. Why?”

“Because I knew what _he_ ’d do to you. He lived in my house, I saw him torture and kill countless people. I never wished that for anybody, not even you.”

Harry hadn’t really thought about what Malfoy must have gone through during the war. He couldn’t imagine what living with Voldemort was like.

He looked at the couch and winced. He didn’t want to lie there again, his back wouldn’t survive another minute on it.

“You can sleep with me, if you want,” Malfoy said as he got under the covers. “My bed is big enough for three, you’ll probably think you’re alone. Unless I kick you but I swear it won’t be voluntarily.”

From where Harry was standing, the bed looked ten times more comfortable than the old couch and warm and soft… He twisted his hands, hesitating.

“I…” Harry started.

“Come on, I won’t touch you. Have you forgotten already?”

"I’m not your type.”

“Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, if you prefer the couch…”

Harry stopped struggling with himself. He lifted the blankets and slipped under the sheets. He was lying next to his former enemy. Well, he wasn’t exactly lying down but more like petrified next to him. He only saw Malfoy’s back far away from him but he felt his warmth radiating in the bed.

“Can I turn the lights off?”

Harry agreed.

“I’m warning you, Potter, if you snore I’ll kick you out.”

Harry was too tired to answer.

* * *

The sun was already up when Harry opened his eyes again. There was light in the room. The first thing Harry saw was Malfoy, sleeping next to him, face turned towards his own. He seemed peaceful and vulnerable in his sleep. His mouth was even half-open. A lock of hair was falling over his closed eyes and there were tiny freckles on his nose. Harry had never noticed them before because he had never been that close. Harry thought it was pretty. He had always found freckles beautiful, even Ginny’s. He had spent hours kissing them during their sixth year. Malfoy’s were so small and discreet he could count them. Seven on the right cheek.

At that exact moment, Malfoy’s eyes opened. All Harry could see was grey.

“Potter, what in the name of Merlin are you doing in my bed?” Malfoy asked grumpily, his voice hoarse.

“You said I could…”

“Oh, yes, right… Do you also feel like you’ve been crushed by a hippogriff?”

“No, I’m alright, I think.”

Malfoy massaged his temples and closed his eyes again. “I’m starving. Let’s order something.”

Malfoy ordered breakfast and they ate together on the bed. Harry thought he had never eaten bacon that tasted this good.

“So, what do we do today?” Malfoy asked, his mouth full of scrambled eggs. “Except planting your tent in the middle of nowhere?”

Harry’s eggs accidentally went down the wrong way, he coughed. He hadn’t thought that Malfoy would like to spend the day with him.

“Well, I’d like to go swimming,” Harry said after swallowing a gulp of water.

“Perfect, I’d like that too. And I obviously want to make fun of you when you’ll realize you have no idea how to set up a tent so I suggest we take a shower and go together.”

Harry chocked on his eggs and coughed again.

“Not _together_ , the shower, Potter! Don’t faint for Merlin’s sake!”

* * *

They had to get out of town.

The road was almost impracticable and it was difficult to walk on all the rocks on it but they had a beautiful view of the sea and the wild nature around them. Harry inspired deeply, purified his body with the unpolluted air. He had forgotten what it was like to be completely free.

“My feet hurt,” said a familiar voice next to him.

Hands hidden in the pocket of his jeans and sun glasses over his eyes, Malfoy was walking reluctantly. And he made sure Harry knew how he felt about that hike, repeatedly. He didn’t even have a giant bag to carry and yet complained more than Harry.

“We’re almost there.”

“You can admit that you’re lost, Potter.”

“I’m not! It’s written there, in the guide. After the crossroad, walk two miles on the dirt road. We haven’t even done one mile yet!”

Malfoy complained more.

“Don’t you ever use your feet?” Harry asked.

“What for? We’re wizards. We could simply Apparate if you weren’t so stubborn about seeing the landscapes.”

An hour later, Harry almost screamed in triumph. He could finally see the entry of the camping site.

“I told you I knew where we were going!” he said while hitting Malfoy’s side with his elbow.

“Just moderate your enthusiasm, you haven’t set up your tent yet.”

Harry ignored him. He picked a spot with the nice Muggle lady who managed the campsite. He had a perfect view of the sea. Now, he just had to try to avoid making a fool of himself in front of Malfoy.

He could do this, he wasn’t stupid. Except, ten minutes later when he couldn’t even understand what was the front of the tent, he decided to break his promise to himself and use magic. Hermione had done this countless of times when they were on the run so he simply mimicked her gestures. The tent rose in the air, perfectly straight. He turned himself, so proud with himself and said:

“Have you seen that? I did it the first time!”

“Well, you cheated. It’s not even funny.”

Harry wasn’t listening to him. He contemplated his masterpiece with pride.

“Shall we go to the beach then?” he asked after a few moments.

* * *

The water was freezing. Harry didn’t want to put anything else but toes inside. He wasn’t suicidal and cared for his limbs. Malfoy didn’t. He was… insane. He took his clothes off and ran towards the sea like a child.

Harry saw the scar on his chest for a few brief seconds before it disappeared in the sea. He felt ashamed to have been the one _damaging_ Malfoy. He didn’t seem to care though. People stared at him with curiosity but he didn’t even see them. He walked with pride like he had nothing other than skin on his chest.

Perhaps he was pretending. He often did so. He had pretended to be happy with his fate as a Death Eater and had pretended to be insensitive, ready to kill. And it was silly but as Harry was watching him, swimming happily as if nothing ever mattered, he felt like finally letting everything he had kept inside of him go so he could be free too. It was there, in his throat, invading him.

“Are you coming or not?” Malfoy asked, dragging Harry back to reality.

“Not! I’m cold. I’m going to lie down on the beach.”

It was true but thankfully, he had kept his t-shirt on. He ignored Malfoy’s worried face and went back on the beach. He zigzagged between the towels already set on the beach, almost crushed a sand castle and received a ball in his head but he made it to their spot alive. He took off his shorts and t-shirt and lied down on his stomach, face hidden in his arms. He wanted to tan.

“Harry Potter?” a voice asked.

He raised his head reluctantly. It was a girl in a pink bikini.

“No, I’m not.”

The girl giggled. “Yes, you are. I recognized you.”

“No, you’re mistaken…”

The girl kept pestering him. Harry was angry. Couldn’t he be left alone one day? He was trying to enjoy his holiday!

“Oh, are you flirting, Luke?”

It was Malfoy, insisting on a name that wasn’t his. He was drying himself with a towel because they had got out of the wizarding town and there were Muggles from the island around them. The girl was watching him, eyes on his long scar.

“Oh, Luke? Sorry I… must have… Sorry!” And she ran way, blushing, and joined a friend.

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“No problem. I couldn’t stand her giggling. These girls remind me of how happy I am that I’m gay.”

“Merlin, I know what you mean. I can’t stand these girls.”

“Finally, some sense!”

“Shut up, I always have sense!” Harry answered, throwing sand at Malfoy.

They stayed there all afternoon. They talked, mostly about unimportant things. The sun was setting down slowly when they both got up, starting to get cold without the sunlight burning their backs.

“Are you eating with me tonight?” Harry asked.

“Not tonight.”

Harry didn’t know why he felt so disappointed.

“No, tonight I want to dance,” Malfoy continued, “flirt. And more if I find a good-looking bloke.”

Harry looked away while Malfoy got dressed.

“And I can’t come?” Harry asked.

“No, you can’t. But there’s got to be a karaoke night in your Muggle camping, right?”

“Oh, just go you git.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Harry folded his towel and dressed himself quickly. He didn’t watch Malfoy walking away. He was in a strange mood as he returned to his tent. His shoulders hurt because he had a massive sun burn but he couldn’t even put some lotion on them because he couldn’t reach his back. He was hungry and he didn’t want to be alone. What a great evening ahead of him.

He bought some junk food in the camping mini market and ate alone outside his small tent. The ground was even harder than the couch he had slept on last night. He missed Malfoy’s bed.

“Stop thinking rubbish like that," he said to himself as he covered himself up to the chin with his sleeping bag.

* * *

 “Potter?”

Harry woke up, his mind still asleep.

“Potter?” he heard again.

Harry grabbed his wand, whispered _lumos_ and opened his tent. He hadn’t dreamt, there was indeed someone outside. It was Malfoy. He was holding his arm against his stomach and he seemed to have a bruised face. His right cheek was terribly swollen.

“What happened?”

“Forget everything I ever said to you, being gay is terrible,” Malfoy explained with a sad smile. “May I come in?”

Harry hesitated because his tent was so tiny. He doubted they would even fit. But then he watched Malfoy’s face again and he let him enter at once. They lay down next to each other, so close they could almost touch. Harry stopped breathing. He asked Malfoy what had happened again.

“There were drunk guys outside the bar. They said I was a poof. And I was also drunk so instead of letting it go I provoked them. I said loads of stupid things and I couldn’t defend myself that well after so many drinks and I couldn’t break the Statute of Secrecy.”

He closed his eyes. His voice sounded bitter.

“Let me heal that quickly.”

Malfoy agreed and turned towards Harry. He checked the wounds, touched the swollen cheek with careful fingers and pushed aside a wild strand of hair.

“It isn’t pretty. They didn’t hesitate.”

Malfoy opened his eyes, stared at Harry and said: “You’re too nice with me.”

“Not _too_ nice. We’re friends now, right?”

Malfoy didn’t answer.

“Right?” Harry asked again, worried.

“Yes. It’s just odd to hear you say it.”

His injuries healed slowly. Harry had done everything he could. He felt serene. More serene than when he was sleeping alone on the hard ground in the tent.

“Do you have a second pillow?”

“No, but I can give you a jumper.”

Harry searched in his bag and found a jumper. He gave it to Malfoy so he could put his head on it. Harry heard a sniffing sound. In the darkness, it seemed Malfoy was smelling the wool. Then, he leaned towards Harry and smelled him.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking if you’re the one who smells so good.”

Harry blinked, stunned. He felt his cheeks burning and knew that he was blushing.

“And?”

“It was you.”

Malfoy leaned back. A few minutes later he was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, here’s chapter 7! As you can see, I added a number of chapters. You’re probably thinking oh no, they’re going to be in such trouble if there are still 18 chapters to go… But don’t worry, as I said it in the tags, this story will have a happy ending! I’ll also tag anything that could be a trigger even though I don’t think it'll be necessary. However if you have questions about things that might trigger you, you can find me on Tumblr and ask anything: casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com  
> Thank you again for all the lovely comments and the kudos, they're the highlights of my day!


	8. What next?

Well before dawn, Harry woke up and heard the wind howling. In the dark, without moving, he listened to the violence of the gusts against the tent. Malfoy had gotten closer during the night and was now asleep against him. Harry was even starting to believe that Malfoy’s heat was his own. He also thought that it couldn’t be right because there was nothing but coldness inside him.

At some point when the clouds disappeared for a moment, the moon provided light and Harry would watch Malfoy. He was sleeping in his bloodstained clothes and his belly rose as he breathed softly. Harry let his eyes wander on the small patch of skin he could see just above his belt. After understanding exactly what he was staring at, he panicked and his eyes fell on the back pocket of Malfoy’s jeans. There was a small diary inside, just like Harry’s.

He took the notebook out, slowly, trying not to wake Malfoy up. He didn’t need to worry; he was profoundly asleep. Harry didn’t remember writing much inside his diary but Malfoy had. There were entire pages blackened by ink.

 _Just the first page_ , Harry thought. _Just read the first page_.

_“It is not of my own accord that I chose to write in this diary. It’s obvious that such a ridiculous idea wouldn’t even have crossed my mind. It’s the Healer I was forced to meet by my mother yesterday who ordered me to keep a diary. She said it’d be the “treatment to heal from myself”. I have no idea what it means. And if I agreed, it’s certainly not because I think I need to be cured. I don’t have a choice, that’s it._

_It is also not of her own accord that my mother took me to Healer Johnson. If she could have avoided it, she would have. I could tell because of the way she was squirming in her chair and her mouth was constantly twitching. In the waiting room, she was nervously turning the pages of some magazine, not even looking at me. When our eyes finally crossed, she gave me a fake smile that seemed to say: I swear that if I had a choice, we would both be out of here and doing something worth our time._

_But we didn’t have a choice. It was the ultimate condition the Ministry gave. If I wanted to go to Hogwarts, I needed to have Healer Johnson’s approval. And I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything.”_

Harry closed the diary, ashamed. He put it back inside Malfoy’s pocket and tried to forget everything, even that Malfoy had lied to him. He had told him his mother had sent him to Healer Johnson. It was actually the Ministry of Magic…

Malfoy’s breathing became softer, quieter and his flank left Harry’s. He felt cold again and he shivered. Malfoy's eyes opened. Would he remember smelling Harry’s jumper and then his hair and telling him he smelled good?

Harry remembered too much. It was all he could think about.

“My back hurts,” Malfoy started, wincing, “not yours?”

Harry nodded and asked softly: “Why did you came tonight? You walked two miles with your face all bruised in the middle of the night even though you complained the entire time yesterday when it was daylight and you weren’t completely drunk.”

Malfoy frowned. “Does it bother you that much? I thought you said we were friends.”

“Yes, of course, and I meant it…”

“So, isn’t it what friends do? I needed a friend last night.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He noticed the wool of his jumper had left a mark on Malfoy’s cheek and it made him smile.

“You were snoring,” Harry said.

Malfoy was about to answer when a new gust of wind shook the tent more violently than before.

“Potter, tell me you protected your tent.”

“Protected against what? Intruders?”

They heard thunder and suddenly it was raining and the wind was stronger than ever. The old tent didn’t resist and flew in the sky, leaving the two of them vulnerable and exposed to the storm. Malfoy got up and started to gather Harry’s clothes.

Harry could admit it now: the tent had been a terrible idea.

“We need to Apparate!” Malfoy yelled as he held his hand.

Harry agreed and gladly took his hand. His foot touched something hard on the floor. He looked down and saw Malfoy’s diary, wet and muddy. Harry picked it up.

“Is that yours?” he asked.

Malfoy seemed to be tense and undecided.

“No. Put it back.”

Harry was about to protest but didn’t say anything because he wasn’t supposed to know that it was Malfoy’s. It would break their fragile trust. With a heavy heart, Harry delicately put it back on the ground. He felt sad because he knew how much it meant to Malfoy, he had seen the countless black pages and how Malfoy looked at it.

They held hands again. It felt warm and soft. Harry knew he’d have a hard time letting it go.

They were back in the small hotel room. Malfoy didn’t say anything. He didn’t even make fun of Harry because he forgot the protection spells. He simply indicated the bathroom and told Harry to go there first. It was an order. He didn’t protest, guessing why Malfoy wanted to be alone. He slammed the door and turned on the shower. Then he opened it again without making any noise. Malfoy was at the window, his wand out.

“ _Accio_ diary,” he said.

Malfoy waited. Harry waited with him.

Suddenly, the muddy diary landed in his owner’s hand. Malfoy gently wiped the mud and dried it with a spell. Harry had never seen Malfoy acting so carefully. He closed the door and showered.

That night, they went back to bed without talking much.

Malfoy didn’t seem angry, just indifferent. He didn’t even look at Harry which was probably the worst thing of all. On the couch, he counted to ten, not to fall asleep but to stop this odd urge to cry that hadn’t quite left him since they had arrived in the room. Then, with one hand, Malfoy raised the covers on his bed, inviting Harry to join him without saying anything.

Legs shaking, Harry got up and lied down next to him in the bed.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked.

Malfoy turned so they could see each other.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know, I ruined your clothes or forgot the spells. You’re acting strange.”

“I don’t care about my clothes,” he said, staring at the wall behind Harry. “Why did you think the notebook was mine?”

Harry was petrified.

“Because it wasn’t mine, I suppose.”

“It could have been anyone’s but you asked, right away, is it yours? Why?”

Harry bit his lower lip nervously. He couldn’t tell the truth but Malfoy deserved an answer.

“I have one…” Harry saw the incomprehension in Malfoy’s eyes so he kept going, “Healer Johnson asked us both to leave so I thought, since she asked me to write, she might have asked you…”

Malfoy watched him as if he was trying to figure out if Harry deserved the truth. There was a long silence and then, at last, he said:

“Yes. She asked me too.”

He turned the lights off and didn’t say good night.

The next morning, Malfoy was himself again. The diary was forgotten. Had it ever existed? Once they were dressed, they headed to the hotel’s reception. Malfoy asked for another room with two beds. The lady gave them a key without asking questions.

Two beds. Harry couldn’t hide his deception.

“What’s that face you’re making, Potter?” Malfoy asked once they were outside. “You look disgruntled and exhausted.”

“Oh. Well, I didn’t sleep that well.”

Malfoy put his hand over Harry’s neck, sending chills in his entire body.

“You know, you have the right to be sad. After all, it was your tent. It had a short life but at least it kept Harry Potter’s backside warm!”

Harry hid his burning face.

* * *

The rest of their holiday passed too quickly.

They explored the island the morning, tanned lazily on the beach the afternoon and tried a different restaurant each evening. They talked about Hogwarts and laughed till the waiters told them they had to leave because it was closing time. One morning, they borrowed brooms and raced each other over the coast. Harry won but it was a close one. And the entire afternoon, Malfoy stated that if there hadn’t been this bloody seagull, he would have won.

At night, they slept in different beds but they talked a lot and fell asleep at ungodly hours. And they always fell asleep turned towards each other. Harry couldn’t count Malfoy’s freckles anymore but at least he was the first thing he saw when he woke up.

Harry had forgotten about the nightmares. All he could think about was the end of their holiday.

His skin was now tanned whereas Malfoy had kept it white. Every day, he used three different potions to immunize himself from the sun. Harry made fun of him but Malfoy just wrinkled his nose with disdain.

“It doesn’t matter, I don’t tan anyway,” he had said, “and if you want my opinion, there’s nothing more vulgar.”

“What, even on me?”

He thought it made his eyes even more flagrant. And he had even gained some weight after eating in so many restaurants. The image he saw in the mirror was one he had never seen. He had never looked so healthy and happy in his entire life.

“Maybe not on you, no.”

Harry felt stupidly flattered.

They had become inseparable. When Harry thought about it, he knew that it was different than his friendship with Ron or Hermione. He and Malfoy were close but… It was different. Every time Harry tried to think about it and put words on what he felt, he became dizzy and his stomach fluttered.

Suddenly, it was their last day. Last time bathing in the sea for Malfoy, last time tanning on the beach for Harry. Last drink in a crowded restaurant. They thought about making a toast but to what? The ending of their paradisiac holiday? Harry couldn’t bear to think about it more than necessary. Soon, he’d be back at the Burrow.

“So, what’s next?” Harry asked.

Malfoy was watching the sea behind his sunglasses as if he wanted to print it forever in his mind.

“Next what?”

“Will you still speak to me when summer’s over?”

“Will you?”

“Please, don’t answer a question with another.”

Malfoy was hissing through his clenched teeth: “Well, what do you want me to say? Will you let me speak to you at Hogwarts, in front of your friends?”

Harry didn’t answer.

“You see…”

“Why is this so complicated?” Harry asked, morose.

“It just is. But think about it, would it be as intense if it weren’t?”

“Maybe not,” Harry conceded.

 _Intense_. The choice of words made him shaky.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. And in the meantime, smile. It’s not like we’re never going to see each other ever again.”

Harry nodded and smiled. After that, they didn’t talk about their departure nor the future.

They went back to the hotel. The night was beautiful and lukewarm. Harry wanted to stay up until dawn so he wouldn’t lose time. Not one second. They had still so many things to talk about. What if it all ended after tonight?

“You’re quiet,” Malfoy said.

“I don’t want to go home,” he kicked a stone on the pavement and continued, “I feel like this is my first holiday without Voldemort, without telling myself it might be my last. And I’m scared that this feeling, this happiness, will go away when I come home. Stupid, isn’t it?”

“Why would it be stupid?”

“Because it’s over, he’s dead.”

“The ghosts are still here.”

Harry watched Malfoy with surprise. Yes, that was it. Exactly what he was thinking, all the time.

“Yes, they’re still here,” Harry agreed softly.

Malfoy put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and pressed it gently.

“They’ll go away.”

Harry nodded. Everyone told him that. Everyone said the wounds will close with time. Scars can disappear with time.

He wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that one day, it wouldn’t hurt that much. He’d think about his parents, Sirius, Remus, Tonks and Fred and only remember the happy moments. Not their lifeless bodies and their eyes seeing nothing. He wanted to believe that with time, he’d feel less cold and more alive.

He wanted to believe Malfoy because his hand was so soft.

“I hope they hurry,” Harry whispered.

* * *

They were back in the train.

The coast and the boasts were far away in the horizon. Harry couldn’t watch without wanting to go back. Suddenly, the train entered the sea and the sun disappeared. Harry shivered.

“No game this time?” he asked.

“No game.”

Malfoy too seemed melancholic. Harry didn’t insist and lay down on the bench. He was tired, they had talked a lot last night and only slept a few hours. He fell asleep.

The red eyes and the snake were back. He felt something twitching inside him. Harry woke up with a startle and rubbed his eyes. Malfoy was kneeling in front of him, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

“We’re almost there, don’t worry.”

Harry blamed himself for sleeping that long.

“Are you going back to Healer Johnson’s office next Wednesday?”

Harry nodded.

"Me too,” Malfoy said while catching his bag on the luggage track. “We’ll see each other next week.”

Harry felt slightly better knowing he would see Malfoy again so soon and he even managed to smile. Outside, they could already see London’s grey buildings. Then he recognized King’s Cross Station and the platform. The train stopped. Harry stayed still while Malfoy looked outside.

“Great. Your friends are waiting for you. You have to go out first.”

Harry, who only had one rucksack now that his tent was gone, got up and danced on his feet. He hated goodbyes. This one shouldn’t be so difficult.

“It was… nice.” Harry said.

Malfoy smiled. “I was sure we’d kill each other by the end of the week.”

“I guess we’ve grown.”

Harry detailed his hands. Tourists were now gathering in the corridor. They heard children crying and luggage thrown on the floor.

“You should go,” Malfoy said more urgently.

Harry knew that. He stared at Malfoy; he was still smiling. It wasn’t genuine nor ironical but simply tense, just like Harry’s. It was a half-smile, just on the side of his lips. Harry felt something roar in his stomach.

He still hadn't stirred. His eyes were still staring at Malfoy when his feet moved towards him. He didn’t quite understand what he was doing. It wasn’t him, he never would have done that. It wasn’t his hand on Malfoy’s cheek. Not his fingers sliding through the pale blond hair. Not his lips crashing on Malfoy’s…

It couldn’t have been him. He must have lost his mind.

Yet, he did all of this. He felt the softness, the burn and Malfoy’s hot breath. He finally felt the lips he had dreamt about for a week and all he could think about was Malfoy’s perfume and how it reminded him of the sea and of a morning lying in bed, counting freckles. He liked it, wanted it and waited for Malfoy to reciprocate.

But Malfoy, arms dangling on his side, body tense, didn’t kiss him back and when Harry opened his eyes, Malfoy’s own were incredulous and wide open.

Harry took away his hands, still clutching the blond hair, horrified. He walked to the door and ran away. In the corridor, he hustled two wizards and didn’t even bother apologizing. What had he done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 and finally their first kiss! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
> Cursed Child is out! Have you read it yet? Is it any good? I've seen some spoilers but not too much so if anyone has read it already tell me what you thought about it (without spoilers please), I'm really curious! I only get my copy on Monday but it's literally all I can think about. By the way, I'll probably be crying and reading Cursed Child next Monday so I might publish Chapter 9 on Sunday.  
> Thank you again for all the comments and the kudos, please tell me if you enjoy the story so far and let me know if you want to discuss anything or if you want to see something in particular!  
> Find me on Tumblr: casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com


	9. Meaningless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! In this chapter there might be references to internalized homophobia but not much and I don't think there will be more of that in upcoming chapters.

_“29th July,_

_I kissed him.”_

Harry’s fingers were shaky. He dropped his quill and hid his face in his hands so he wouldn’t see the words but the ink was already imbibing the paper. He had kissed Malfoy. Harry took the quill again.

“ _I kissed Malfoy. Draco. I can’t think of anything else but his mouth, his nose against my cheek, his smell. And his absence of reaction._

_I ran away. I jumped off the train and didn’t look back. Ron and Hermione were there, smiling. They looked happy to see me and I’m sure they were. She told me they all missed me. But I couldn’t listen. I wanted to look back, I wanted to see him in the train. But all my courage was gone. What if he was so disgusted he wiped his mouth to erase me? This makes me so scared, even more than thinking about the kiss itself._

_I should want him to forget. A kiss, what kiss? Nothing happened. I should want to forget as well but I can’t. I wanted to kiss him again in the train and I still do. I should disgust myself. That’d be a normal reaction. I should be scared of it. I should ask myself thousands of questions. I should think about how the boys in the dormitory back in Hogwarts used to make fun of these “poofs”, I should slap myself or just do something. Go back to my manly heterosexuality, forgotten one brief moment during a one-sided kiss. A kiss doesn’t mean anything. Right?_

_I’m actually scared about one thing. I think about what he didn’t do. He told me I’m not his type. It might have been to reassure me incase I was be afraid of him or something. But then, he told me I smelled nice. He let me heal him. And sometimes, in his eyes, in his jokes, it seems there was affection, tenderness…_

_Being friends was ideal though. It was perfect. What if I ruined everything because of what I did? Merlin I can’t ever watch him in the eyes ever again.”_

Harry closed his diary and knocked his head several times on Ron’s desk in his bedroom. The shutters were half-closed. He would have preferred to be outside. He had learned to enjoy the sun and what it had done to his skin back in Guernsey. He thought about Draco and his ridiculous potions. It made him laugh.

 _Don’t think about that, don’t think about that…_ he said to himself.

Someone knocked on the door. “Harry?” Hermione asked. She entered and noticed the diary in his hands. “Oh, you’re writing. These holidays didn’t really help you then.”

“Why are you saying that?”

“You’ve been home an hour and you’re already locked inside. You won’t tell us anything. I’m worried. And you’re here, all alone, writing. Did something go wrong?”

Hermione sat on the bed.

“On the contrary, Hermione, it went very well.”

“You didn’t get bored?”

“Not at all.”

“Then what’s happening to you?”

 _I miss Draco,_ Harry thought. _I miss Draco and Guernsey._ There were only ruins where everything used to be alive and vibrant last week. Nostalgia was like a tidal wave. It left him wobbly and febrile.

_And now I know exactly why I didn’t want to come home._

Was Draco feeling the same thing, wherever he was? Was he thinking about Harry? He was probably at the Manor. Harry remembered it, it was sumptuous and lugubrious at the same time. Draco had such a luminous and happy personality when you got to see past what he wanted people to think, hidden beneath haughtiness and superficiality. Harry had seen it all though, the hand on his shoulder, the worried look on his face after one of his terrible nightmare, his laugh. It was hard to believe he had grown up in such a terrible place.

Harry got up and so did Hermione.

“Harry, talk to me, please.”

“To tell you what?”

“What’s wrong!”

“I already see one Healer, Hermione, I don’t need another one.”

Harry regretted his words as soon as he said them. He bit his tongue but it was too late, the damage was already done. Hermione’s eyes were full of tears of incomprehension.

“Hermione, I’m sorry,” he said.

She just walked out of the bedroom. He tried to follow her but she was already walking towards Mrs Weasley in the garden. Ron was sitting in the kitchen.

“Do you want to play chess?” he asked when Harry arrived.

Harry said no.

“Quidditch, then?”

“Sorry, Ron, I just need to take a walk. Later, if you want.”

Harry almost ran into Ginny as he was getting out of the house. She was wearing a nice dress and had apparently put lipstick on. She looked pretty. Had she done all of this for him?

“Harry…” she began, smiling widely.

Harry couldn’t stand the emotion in her voice. He wanted to plug his ears. How could he tell her? _I haven’t even thought of you all week. I didn’t want to and anyway, there’s no more room. Malfoy has taken it all._

“Where are you running to?”

Harry couldn’t find a good answer so he shrugged. Ginny was smiling more and more as she looked at him.

“Who are you, stranger, and what have you done to my pale and scrawny Harry?”

Harry laughed nervously. “My Harry," she had said. He made a faint gesture towards his own body.

“He’s right there.”

She moved closer and laced her arms around Harry’s shoulder. He didn’t hug her back though she felt warm. He couldn’t do it.

“I can almost smell the sea and the salt,” she whispered. “I missed you.”

Harry tensed but she didn’t notice. He didn’t know what to say. Guernsey seemed so far away. His carefreeness, his freedom. He had abandoned all of that an hour ago, in a train, with a kiss he couldn’t let go.

“Did you miss me?”

He barely noticed her face, full of questions, raised towards him. He should have thought about it before answering. Or didn’t answer at all. Or find another subject. But Harry was clumsy.

“Not really,” he said.

“No?”

“Yes!” Harry said but it was too late.

”Yes or no? Are you going to make up your mind?”

“Ginny…”

He said her name with such a weariness that she understood. Ginny had probably counted the days until his return but he hadn’t even thought about her. Harry saw tears in her eyes.

“So, it’s over then?”

“I’m sorry, Ginny.”

“Is there someone else?”

“No! Not at all. It’s just me and the circumstances. There are things I need to deal with.”

“I might have stopped waiting when you’re finished.”

Harry said he’d take the risk. She nodded and disappeared inside the house. The sun on Harry’s face seemed different. Everything felt different. He missed Guernsey.

It was going to be a long week.

* * *

Turned out it wasn’t. Hermione forgave him. Ginny went to a friend’s house for two weeks. Ron had never heard of their fight.

Harry made an effort. He accepted Hermione’s revisions plans.

“If we’re going to get our N.E.W.T.S., we need to revise all of the Sixth Year program.”

Ron had groaned, protested and finally capitulated. Hermione was uncompromising but effective. She pretended not to notice Ron’s sighs and Harry’s eyes drifting towards the window, towards Guernsey…

He told them about his holiday. About the train going under the sea, the sea, the town and the beautiful blue houses, the coast, the beach, the sun burning his skin, the camping and the storm, the girl who had recognized him. In his words, he had been alone. In his head, Malfoy was everywhere.

He played chess with Ron, Quidditch with everyone. Hermione had to play Chaser but she was still terrible at it and quickly gave up.

The afternoon, they often went to a small river hidden behind high trees. Lying in the grass, Harry watched his friends splash each other with water and chase each other, laughing. It often ended up in kisses and Harry looked away. Did he envy them? Could he imagine living the same thing… with Malfoy? Walking in the street, hand in hand with him, stealing a kiss, hugging him under the water, lying in the grass next to him, head on his chest.

Harry almost laughed. The images in his head were completely absurd.

* * *

Wednesday came. It was July, 31st. Harry’s birthday. He didn’t really care about it, he was simply one year older. On the other hand, he was going to see Malfoy again.

He changed three times before going, chose a pair of brand new jeans and tried to tidy his hair. He also verified he didn’t have any stains on his shirt and checked his breath.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked as he watched Harry checking himself in the mirror, again.

“Nothing!”

“What does your Healer look like?” Ron asked with amusement.

“She’s the dullest person I ever met, why?”

Ron frowned. “Then why are you dressing nice and stuff?”

“I don’t know. Myself?”

Five minutes before his appointment, Harry panicked. His pulse accelerated. He couldn’t walk inside the waiting room. He just stared at the door. Finally, he hid himself on the corner of the street. He stayed there so long he could have melted in the concrete. But then he saw Malfoy - _Draco_.

He recognized him from far away. He was wearing a blue shirt and his sun glasses. A simple pair of jeans. Unlike Harry, he didn’t seem to ask himself thousands of questions and took off his glasses before entering Healer Johnson’s office.

Harry waited again. An hour in the corner of the street.

Draco got out, looking quite upset. He looked around him as if he was searching for something (Harry?), shrugged after a moment and walked away.

Without thinking, Harry followed him. He wasn’t very good at it though. He thought he lost him at least a dozen times and hid himself when he thought he was going to turn back.

Until he really lost him. Harry turned and turned, looked everywhere but Draco had vanished. A hand came out of nowhere and grabbed his shoulder.

“So, Potter, skipping therapy?” a familiar voice asked.

Draco was right behind him, arms crossed behind his back, looking as amused as ever.

“No, I got the wrong hour.”

“And you weren’t following me?”

“No! I was thinking about getting ice cream.”

Draco was biting his lips, apparently resisting an urge to laugh.

“It’s on the other side of Diagon Alley.”

“So what?” Harry groaned. “I just don’t have a very good sense of direction.”

“You were following me. Just admit it.”

Harry passed a hand in his hair, making it look just as he had gotten out of bed. Draco laughed and took his arm.

“Just promise me something, don’t ever become an Auror, alright? I spotted you right at the beginning. But it was very funny. Especially when I turned around and you dived behind a witch who started yelling at you, telling you to let her go!”

Draco laughed again. “Come on, don’t make that face. Let’s go somewhere, we can grab a coffee.”

Mortified, Harry agreed. He settled down at the nearest café. His hands were shaky. As usual, Draco ordered for him. He didn’t know what to say. He had lost his voice, his replies. He had thought about what they’d said every night before falling asleep though, in the silence of the night when Ron was snoring. But nothing was coming, nothing. Total black hole inside Harry’s mind. He couldn’t even touch his burning coffee. His fingers played with the cup.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last.

“Sorry? About what?”

“In the train… you know… the kiss… I don’t know what happened to me.”

Draco shrugged a took a gulp of coffee. “It’s alright. It’s already forgotten.”

Harry’s hands tensed. Draco had forgotten about it while it had been the only thing Harry could think about for the entire week. And Draco had simply forgotten. It was insulting. Harry wanted to dig a hole in the ground and disappear inside it for the rest of his life.

Harry had imagined everything. Draco angry at him, Draco making fun of him. Another kiss, perhaps, in the best case. But not this.

“I didn’t want it to ruin things.”

Draco crossed his arms on the table and leaned towards Harry.

“What could it ruin? Things like that happen. You got carried away, I get it. I can’t blame you. And who knows, maybe you were Confunded.”

The Confundus Charm now? It kept getting better and better… Harry gulped and made a miserable attempt to smile.

“Maybe, yes,” he managed to say.

“Let’s not talk about it anymore!”

 _No!_ Harry thought. _On the contrary, we should talk about it!_

But Draco was getting something out of his pocket and enlarged it with his wand.

“Happy birthday.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. “You… You know it’s my birthday?”

“Everyone knows it… Come on, take it, it’s for you.”

Harry ripped the wrapping paper. It was a painting. Draco must have bought it behind his back when they were in Guernsey. It represented the harbour they had seen countless times. The boats were floating and the clouds were moving. There were seagulls on top of the lighthouse. Draco had thought about him while they were on their holiday. He had thought about his birthday and looked for a present for him.

“I thought you’d miss it less.”

Draco’s voice was strangely soft. Harry searched for his hand, randomly, and pressed his wrist when he found it.

“I already miss it,” Harry whispered.

He left his hand over Draco’s. It was good there. Warm.

“I know. Me too.”

Harry thought Draco was pressing his hand back against his own, caressing it softly but perhaps he had imagined it because soon, the hand was withdrawn.

“Thank you,” Harry said.

Draco nodded as if it didn’t matter.

“I’m leaving with my parents on Friday. We’re going to Italy until the end of summer.”

Harry’s throat was suddenly tight again. “What about your sessions with Healer Johnson?”

“She gave her results today.”

“What did she write? Nice sleeping therapy?”

Draco smiled at him enigmatically.

“You never slept there, did you?” Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

Draco got up and stretched his limbs. “Believe what you want.”

Harry didn’t move. He stayed still, now weary. Draco was leaving far away. How many miles would they be apart, how many endless days would he have to wait to see him again? He left him without answers, without hope and only a taste of bitterness in his mouth. Next to him, Draco put a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“We’ll see each other when school starts?”

Harry nodded, incapable of speaking. Draco got closer and the hand on his shoulder became more urgent.

“And take care of yourself, all right?”

He nodded again. Draco walked away.

Harry watched him until he disappeared. He kept watching the busy street, having nothing else to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I received Cursed Child last Friday and I already finished it so I didn’t have to publish chapter 9 a day in advance.  
> As you can see, the rating has changed, it’s now explicit! If you need me to tag anything, tell me in the comments or send me a message on Tumblr: casknowsaboutwizards.com  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	10. Not sorry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! In this chapter there is explicit sex!

1st September.

The sun was hidden behind grey clouds and a few drops of rain already fell on the concrete. Under the glass roof of King’s Cross Station, the shadows grew taller and summer was ending too soon.

Harry was glad to leave.

Of course, there would be scars in Hogwarts but they didn’t scare him and it didn’t matter if Healer Johnson disagreed. During their last session, she had told him that one day, everything he kept inside him would explode. She had said that his grief wasn’t absent, just sleeping like a disease, and that it would wake one day. She had kept staring at him, piercing him with her eyes like the answer was written on Harry’s face.

Bollocks! “Why don’t you cry," she kept asking. Depending on the day, it made him angry or it made him smile. If he had the answer, would he spending so much time in her office every week? Certainly not.

Maybe he didn’t need to cry. Some people didn’t need to.

The platform was overcrowded and reminded him of his holiday, his heavy bag and Draco, waiting for him. But there was no anonymity now. And no Draco. Instead, there were housemates and children pointing their fingers at him.

“Look, Dad, it’s Harry Potter!” a little boy would say.

He didn’t care. He thought about Draco. One month without seeing him. An eternity. Missing him had eaten him up during these four long weeks.

He was now walking in the train with Ron and Hermione who where holding hands.

“Blimey, all the compartments are already full!” his best friend said.

Harry didn’t listen, he was looking for Draco but he couldn’t find him anywhere. He panicked. What if he had stayed in Italy? Did they have a school there, full of hot Italians?

“Are you okay, Harry? You look a little pale,” Ron asked.

Hermione slapped his arm.

“Leave him alone, it’s okay if he feels odd, we’re returning to Hogwarts!”

Ron suddenly groaned. It sounded like a lamentation. He was looking beyond Harry’s shoulder.

“Malfoy!” he said with the enthusiasm of a man sentenced to death. “Couldn’t you have drowned somewhere in the summer, everyone would have been much more happy!”

Harry felt lighter than he had in weeks. Italy hadn’t kept Draco. He could have danced - if he knew how to. Despite spending a month in Italy, Draco wasn’t tanned at all. He was excessively elegant, as always, and his skin was just as pale as usual.

He wasn’t watching Ron, didn’t even seem to care about what he had said. He was watching _him_ , impassive and serene. Harry tried to smile but it was hard to do so when you’re supposed to hate the person in front of you. He wasn’t supposed to smile at Draco Malfoy nor be pleased to see him. Who would understand that? Pansy Parkinson, hooked to Draco’s arm? Blaise Zabini, on his right? Harry’s own friends?

Draco smirked. “What? You didn’t miss me, Weasley?”

“Who would miss you?” Ron joked as he gave a kick to Harry’s side. “Right, Harry, who would miss a git like him?”

I _would_ , Harry thought.

“Are you done?” Hermione asked. “Because I don’t want to spend the entire trip standing in the corridor and seeing how fast the compartments are filling, I think that’s what’s going to happen! One last insult for the road or are we good to go? Something original like Weasley is poor or Malfoy is a devilish ferret?”

Ron’s face was marked by surprise. “But Hermione, he really was a ferret, don’t you remember?”

“Of course, my love, of course.”

Then, she started walking and made Ron, outrageous, follow. Harry just wanted to laugh and then he saw that Draco wanted to as well because he was biting his lips. Harry suddenly remembered that he had kissed that mouth and that it had been so soft it haunted him for four weeks.

Draco brushed against him as he walked; Harry finally smelled his cologne again. It was brief and unexpected but in an instant Harry was back in Guernsey, sleeping next to Draco in the tent and waking up with him in bed. He felt genuine warmth again for the first time in an eternity.

Draco’s hand touched his. He felt a note slip inside his hand. Ron and Hermione were still arguing or flirting ahead of him, probably thinking Harry would follow them. He unfolded the note quickly.

 _“Luggage wagon in fifteen minutes. Pretend you need the loo or something. D.”_  

Harry folded the paper and put it in his pocket. Merlin, he mustn’t smile, jump or dance.

 _Just breathe_! he thought. He already knew what he was going to tell Draco. What he _wanted_ to tell Draco. He just needed to find the courage to do so.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Harry escaped his compartment. It was full of laughter but his mind was somewhere else. Every breath he took was laborious and he had a stomach ache. He had probably eaten too many Chocolate Frogs. Or it was the words on Draco’s paper. He didn’t know.

Harry told everyone he needed the loo. They didn’t even seem to hear him so he walked outside unnoticed. He counted the steps until he arrived at the luggage wagon. It helped him concentrate.

Sixty-five steps. He was in front of the door, finally. He shook his arms and legs and inhaled deeply once, twice, before going in. It was incredibly dark. The wagon smelled like leather, dust and humidity and the noises of the moving train seemed to be louder here. Students’ trunks were piled up and dangling dangerously. Draco was sitting on top of one, already in his school uniform, green tie barely tied.

“So, how was Italy?” Harry asked.

Draco smiled. “Hot.”

Suddenly, the temperature in the wagon also seemed to rise.

“And the Italians?” Harry joked while scratching his nose nervously.

“Sexy, as you can imagine. But loud.”

Harry laughed stupidly. He looked around to stop his heart from exploding in his chest.

“I’ve never been here,” he said.

“Really? Never snogged someone in a dark corner here?”

Harry shook his head.

“Last chance then.”

Harry opened his eyes in shock but Draco rolled his own.

“I was just joking.”

“I knew that,” Harry replied, trying to hide his deception. He sighed before continuing: “You know, there’s something… Something I want to talk to you about.”

Draco crossed his arms and watched him seriously. “I’m listening, Harry.”

His voice was softer than ever. He had said Harry’s name for the first time and he loved it. He wanted to hear it again and again, whispered in his ear.

“I’m not sorry!” Harry dropped without looking at Draco.

“You’re not sorry. That’s cryptic to say the least.”

“Before you left, I told you I was sorry I kissed you but I lied. I’m not sorry.”

Draco wasn’t answering and for once the silence between them wasn’t comfortable at all.

“You’re not sorry,” Draco repeated, rubbing his neck.

Harry knew the words he wanted to say all by heart and he wasn’t going to run away or let Draco escape to Italy this time: “No and I’d do it again if I had to. But you… You didn’t kiss me back.”

“You didn’t exactly give me the time, you ran away before I could do anything.”

“I know. But if I had stayed, would you have kissed me back?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

The small residue of hope Harry had kept during the summer vanished. He felt ashamed and he wanted to go back to his friends’ compartment, full of happiness and laughter.

“Because I’m not your type…”

“That’s not the point Harry, you have a perfectly acceptable appearance.”

 _Acceptable?_ Could he hang himself now? Draco, seeing the look on Harry’s face, said right away: “That’s not what I meant. You’re very attractive, Harry. Sincerely. But until further notice, you’re straight…”

“What do you know about that?”

“Didn’t you have a redhead girlfriend a few weeks ago?”

“We broke up as soon as I came back from Guernsey.”

“It doesn’t mean you’re ready. It’s not easy, being gay. You have no idea what you’re exposing yourself to. Lying to everyone, all the time. Being scared of what they’d think. Bloody hell, don’t you think you’ve had enough trouble, why do you want more?”

“What makes you think I have a choice, Draco?”

Draco shook his head. He looked at the door as if he wanted to run away. He might have if Harry wasn’t blocking the way.

“I know we can't choose but you and me… It’d be way too complicated.”

“I think we’ve gotten along really well so far.”

Draco was nervously playing with his tie. “I don’t like people, Harry, I’m a lonely person. I don’t know what having a long term relationship is like, I don’t know how to be in one. Sex, that I know. But I’m sure that’s not what you want, right?”

“No,” Harry confessed. “That’s not what I want. But I’m sure it’s not what you want either. You’re just scared.”

“I’m not scared.”

“Good for you then because I am. I’m scared and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I’m scared of what I feel and I’m scared because it’s you and it’s so unexpected and odd but I’m not scared because you have a… penis!”

Draco burst out laughing. “Harry…”

Harry got closer to Draco who seemed to want to take a step back but he couldn’t because his back was against the wall.

“I’m also scared,” Harry continued, “that you’ll push me away. I’ll lose everything. Our friendship. The rest. Don’t tell me there’s no rest, that I’m imagining it all. I know it’s not true.”

He got even closer, eyes staring at Draco’s lips. “And I’m scared I’ll never kiss you again.” Harry smiled when he noticed Draco’s quick breathing. “But I want to, Draco. And it’s your loss because I want you more than I’m scared. I want to touch you and I want you to kiss me. I want to be with you. So either you want me too or you don’t because these four weeks without you… it’s been hell.”

Draco’s lips were slightly parted now. “I missed you,” Harry whispered.

“You’re completely mad.”

“It’s true. I’m completely nuts. But it’s your fault.”

“Certainly not!”

“Of course it is. You know I’m right.”

“Shut up.”

Draco’s voice was nothing but a whisper. Harry had trouble hearing him so he kept going, hoping Draco would finally do something.

“I thought about you. All the time…”

“Stop it, Harry.”

“… at night, mostly, because I was alone in my bed and I was cold. I couldn’t hear you breathe next to me.”

“Stop that! Right away!”

“You don’t really want me to stop though.”

“Yes, I do! One more step, one more word and I swear I’ll…”

“And what? What are you going to do?”

Draco caught him by the collar of his shirt and almost lifted him. Harry was sure he was going to hit him. He had been too far. Unless he had lied to himself and imagined everything? Draco’s affection? Maybe there was never anything, maybe he invented it because he wanted it too much. What if it all meant nothing?

Draco’s hold was firm and painful. Under his imperious gaze, Harry capitulated. He gave up everything.

“I told you to stop talking.”

“I will,” Harry promised.

Draco pulled his shirt again but this time, he brought Harry towards him. Next thing he knew, there were lips against his.

And it was a phenomenal kiss. There was no softness about it, no hesitation, no experimental touches. Harry got the whole thing at once. It was perfect.

Draco was still sitting on a trunk so Harry had to stand on tip-toes to reach him. They were stuck to each other, hands everywhere. Harry’s were beneath Draco’s shirt, exploring his firm back. As for Draco, he was pulling Harry’s hair and it hurt sometimes but neither of them cared. Their were too focused on kissing each other. Harry wanted it to last forever.

Too soon, Draco let him go. His mouth was swollen, red and shiny. Harry touched his own as if he wanted to check if it was all a dream.

“So, does that mean… So, we’re…”

“I don’t know Harry, I need time. You need to let me think.”

“But…”

“Please, Harry, just go.”

For the first time, Harry saw Draco without his mask on. He was lost and scared. He didn’t know what to do. It was almost indecent to see him like that.

Harry stroked Draco’s knee and kissed him softly on the cheek. “All right…”

Then he left the room, feeling like he left a part of him behind. 

* * *

Draco didn’t look at him. Neither when they got off the train nor when they arrived in the Great Hall. Apparently, he had thought about them.

Harry didn’t listen to the Sorting Ceremony or McGonagall’s speech. He barely touched the food in his plate. And his friends left him alone because they probably thought Harry wasn’t okay with being back in Hogwarts, with the scars of the battle. They were so well hidden Harry didn’t even notice anything in particular.

At the Slytherin table, Malfoy was laughing with his friends. How could he do that so easily?

“I can’t believe it!” Dean said. “What went through McGonagall’s head when she decided to make Malfoy a Head Boy?”

“She probably wanted to congratulate him on his heroical behaviour during the war?” Neville said ironically.

Everyone burst out laughing except Harry and Hermione. “Everyone can’t be brave,” she said.

Ron agreed. “There’s got to be cowards to equilibrate things, right? Harry, do you remember when he shouted “I”m with you, I’m with you!” to the Death Eaters?”

“He just wanted to save himself,” Harry replied dryly, ignoring the laughter Ron had just created. “His mother saved my life and he did too. I’m sure he recognised me, back at the Manor, when we were captured. Things could have turned out terribly if he had sold us out.”

“You can’t be sure mate, your face was all swollen.”

Harry shrugged. He knew the truth, that’s all that mattered to him. Silence fell on the Gryffindor table. Someone cleared their throat.

“So, Harry. Heard you went to Guernsey?”

* * *

As he was coming out of the Great Hall, Harry felt a familiar hand slip inside his. He waited to be safe in his dormitory to unfold the new note. _“Meet me in an hour in my bedroom. Draco.”_

Harry would have gladly gone right away and abandoned his unpacked trunk and loud friends but they had just opened sweets and they were about to start eating them as usual after coming back to Hogwarts for another year. Usually, Harry loved these nights but he was too nervous this time. He knew he would never make it to Draco’s bedroom in an hour.

He was right. It was nearly 2 A.M. when Ron started snoring. Harry took his Invisibility Cloak and ran towards Draco’s room, the Marauder’s Map under his arm. The corridors were cold and deserted but Draco’s door was still open. Harry pushed it, full of apprehension. Maybe he was too late.

The room was dark, the only light was coming from a lamp on the bedside table. Draco was lying in the middle of his bed, shirtless. He had probably stopped waiting.

“Took you a while…” he finally said.

“Sorry. Ron wouldn’t fall asleep.”

Draco sat down and turned his head towards Harry. He couldn’t see his face in the darkness.

“You’re just going to stand there?”

Harry got closer. He was next to the bed, intimated and nervous so Draco raised the sheets. He slipped inside the bed, next to the other boy, barely breathing. Harry felt an odd impression of déjà-vu, except this time there was an ambiguity between them, the ghost of a kiss…

Draco was lying down again, his back to Harry. The sheets let him see too many things: the skin of his back, the muscles… Harry approached his hand and, with his fingertips, mimicked in the air touches he desperately wanted to carry out for real. He had imagined this so many times.

And then Draco turned around. His arms embraced him and Harry put his head on his chest, enclosed his own arms around Draco’s back. Their legs were intertwined.

He was so happy he could cry. He loved the small kisses Draco was leaving on his neck, he loved being so close to him. He relished every moment.

“You’ve thought about us,” Harry whispered.

He felt Draco smile against his skin. “Going to kiss me now?”

Harry drew his face closer. A few millimeters and then there was no space between them. And that kiss was much different than the one on the train. It was slow and soft. Lazy. Draco bit his lower lip, played with him. Harry bit back a moan.

Draco pulled away but kept his hand inside Harry’s and began to play with his fingers.

“You didn’t tell me about your holiday. How was it?”

“There’s not much to say.”

“You went back to Healer Johnson?”

Harry nodded. “Three times. She predicted a great meltdown for me.”

Draco raised his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Yes. She said I was too introverted and that I kept everything to myself. One day, it’s going to explode and boom! I won’t even be able to get out of bed. Eating will require superhuman effort and walking and talking as well. Except crying, my body won’t be able to do anything… Try not to be around when it happens.”

Draco laughed. “You? Keeping everything? Merlin, she should have seen you today, she would have been proud.”

He nibbled Harry’s ear and mimicked: “I want to touch you… kiss you… I want to feel you.”

Harry pulled away, laughing as well but nervously. “It’s not nice to make fun of me for that.”

“I’m not. It was cute.” His smile became devilish. “Where did you want to touch me?”

“I… I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Liar,” Draco whispered.

They were still holding hands. Harry approached his own and put it on Draco’s face.

“There, for example.”

His fingers, led by Draco’s hand, touched his eyelids, his forehead and his cheeks, his pink mouth, pointy chin…

The unknown was suddenly terrifying, no matter how fervent Harry’s desires were. Touching a body that was just like his own, a body without breasts and curves was exciting, yes, because it was Draco’s, but it was also new and scary. He was scared of being clumsy. Of not knowing what to do.

Draco accompanied his hand lower, down his neck and on his chest.

“And there?”

Harry nodded nervously. The body in front of him was vast and soft. And he found plenty of curves, only they were different and surrounded by muscles. He touched the scar he had made with tenderness, following it from the hip to the clavicle. He was still so ashamed of using the Sectumsempra Curse.

“And now?” Harry asked.

Draco’s eyes were completely dilated. His hold on Harry’s hand became stronger, he didn’t let it wander on its own anymore. It guided him even lower and disappeared behind a pyjama bottom.

“Touch me…” he whispered in his ear.

Harry’s ears were buzzing, he was dizzy with desire. But perhaps he wasn’t ready, perhaps he wasn’t ready at all? He felt a bit scared.

“Draco…”

He kissed him with enough strength to give Harry the courage he needed.

Draco’s erection in his hand was enough to make him lose his mind, it was like one of the many fantasies he had dreamt about… but the warm hand on his own and Draco’s soft kisses were very much real.

It was curiously easy because Draco’s body was so much like Harry’s. He knew what he liked so he simply did the same thing. His touches became instinctive, more confident. Encouraged by Draco’s moans, Harry worked his hand faster.

“Merlin, Harry…” he heard.

Suddenly, he pulled away, took off Harry’s t-shirt, pajama and pants. Then he went back against him and kissed him. Bare skin against bare skin. Their lengths touching. Harry had never been more excited.

Well, that is, until Draco rolled on top of him and actually moved. With him, against him. He held Harry’s wrists above his head. And he thought he was going mad. He was finally discovering what his body could make him feel. And it was simply touches and kisses. It had definitely nothing to do with what he had felt with Ginny. With her, it was mechanical, almost discreet and quickly forgotten.

But that… That was completely different. And Harry knew that it was just the beginning, the premises of what they’d be doing soon, if Draco didn’t change his mind. And the simple idea of what it would be like to have Draco inside him made him even crazier. He laced his legs around Draco’s waist while they kept moving together and, too soon, the pleasure growled inside him.

“Draco…”

It was just as loud as a whisper but it sounded like a plea. Draco bit his neck. Harry tightened his legs and kissed him as he was shaken by his orgasm. His spasms were uncontrollable and during a second of lucidity, he felt Draco coming in his arms as well.

Suddenly, they weren’t moving anymore. They were sweaty and breathless.

“Merlin…” Draco sighed.

Harry didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how to speak anymore, pleasure was still echoing in every single part of his body.

“Are you still there?” Draco asked after a moment, his hand toying with Harry’s hair.

“Barely.”

Draco laughed very softly. He slipped on his side of the bed and got closer until they were both snuggled against each other like little spoons. It made Harry smile. Draco traced small circles on his hip. Their eyes were closing.

“Good night,” Draco whispered. He kissed his cheek just like Harry had done a few hours ago.

They could talk tomorrow. Tonight, the night was too soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is my favourite chapter so far, I've had a great time writing it. I hope you've enjoyed it, thank you again for all the kudos and the comments! And if you need anything tagged or if you want to discuss anything, please let me know! I'll be on a holiday next Monday so I don't know if I'll have an Internet connection but I'll try my best to upload the next chapter! As always, find me on Tumblr: casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com


	11. Him, me and one one else

The sun was already up when Harry woke. Draco wasn’t there anymore and the bed seemed huge. He had slept like a baby and had no nightmare. Now though, he felt alone and numb without the warm presence of Draco close to him.

He pulled the curtains around the bed and looked at the room. There was light everywhere and he could see all of the silver and green in here; it was indeed a Slytherin bedroom.

“Draco?”

There was no answer. Resisting the fear that crept inside him, Harry pulled back the sheets and got up, his naked feet touching the stone floor; it was cold and irregular like a bloc of ice. Harry shivered and, arms crossed over his chest, he bent down and started to look for his clothes.

“Is that what you’re looking for?” asked a drawling voice Harry recognized instantly.

Draco was watching him from afar, a white towel loosely wrapped around his waist. His skin was shining with humidity and his wet hair was combed, clearing his face. His hand raised in the air, he was twirling the black pants Harry had worn last night - pants that he had been so keen on taking off back then.

“Yes, indeed,” Harry answered calmly even though his eyes were fixed on Draco’s body.

“If you want it you’ll have to come and get it.”

Harry got up with as much dignity as he could muster and hid his crotch with his two hands.

“Why are you hiding?”

Harry shrugged with uncertainty. “I’m shy about my body, I guess.”

Draco laughed. “Come on, Harry… I already saw everything there is to see.”

“You didn’t see anything. It was dark.”

“I might not have seen everything with my eyes but I touched you.”

“I just want you to give me my clothes back.”

Harry tried not to let himself be tenderized by Draco’s malicious smile and by his gaze undressing him. Yet, Harry was already naked, the only thing left to take off was his skin but Draco was eating him alive with his eyes as if there was something more to discover underneath his epidermis. Was he seeing his heartbeat, his laborious breathing and the air in his lungs?

“Please,” Harry said with impatience.

Draco’s smile got even wider, drawing little holes in his cheeks. He raised the pants even higher, making Harry sigh.

“I think you might want to use your hands. It’s silly, really.”

Draco was having so much fun. Harry resigned and tore the pants from Draco’s grasp.

“Happy?” Harry asked, noticing how Draco’s eyes wandered lower.

“It’s funny, last night, it seemed b…”

“Oh, shut up, Malfoy!”

Harry groaned and turned away to jump into his underwear.

“Well, Malfoy again? It’s no longer ‘Draco, oh yes, Draco…’?”

“That’s low. Really.”

Draco caught his arm and pulled him towards him. “Come on, Potter. That’s not how a gentleman says hello.”

Harry turned around, pretending to be surprised. “Where do you see a gentleman?”

“There’s me.”

“Obviously. Mr Gentleman. Clothes stealer. Expert in humiliation.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Kiss me you moron.”

“I don’t know if you deserve that.”

“Do you want me to get on my knees? It’s a very good position to earn forgiveness.”

Harry blushed, he knew his cheeks must have been bright red.

“No, n-no, you don’t need to do that,” he mumbled.

“That’s a shame…”

Harry shut him up with a kiss. Draco answered instantly and it was nothing like their first unrequited kiss on the train back from Guernsey. He pushed him towards his still wet body, put his hands all over his back and even lower. Harry asked himself if he could live without kisses like this one. It was like a drug already. It was slow and sweet and exciting. All of the sensations were different, stronger, crazier. He couldn’t even remember what kissing Ginny was like. Draco’s kiss made him forget everything.

When they finally stopped, their foreheads were still touching.

“I was sure you’d be gone. I was afraid you’d wake up and freak out and leave, forget anything ever happened,” Draco whispered against Harry’s ear.

“That’s rubbish.”

Harry’s stubborn expression made him laugh.

“You could have remembered, too,” Draco continued while kissing Harry’s forehead and biting his earlobe, “you could have remembered who I was and ran away before dawn and I wouldn’t have blamed you.”

Harry realised with stupefaction that if Draco had hesitated that much, had been so difficult to reach and so reluctant to surrender, it was because he needed to protect himself from getting hurt. And only that. How could he have not understand that before?

“And who are you, Draco?”

“I’m the son of a Death Eater. A coward. A bloke who hated you for seven years, who wanted you dead sometimes…”

“That was before.”

“Yes, but it’s still me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Harry persisted.

“I know. Little Gryffindor has courage.”

“Oh, not that much,” Harry said while lowering his eyes, watching their bare feet touching before talking again. “Every day, I tell myself my friends could leave me because of this. And it terrifies me because they’re my family. I know that they may never accept us, never understand it. But I also know that if we continue what we started, they’ll simply have to.”

“You can still leave. I won’t blame you.”

Harry punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t be stupid! First of all, I don’t want to leave and second of all, who says I even can?”

He kissed Draco again.

“You don’t smell that good,” he got in return.

“You git.”

Draco laughed and said the shower was available. Harry went there without even looking back but turned around before closing the door:

“Don’t even think of sneaking in to watch me while I’m showering!”

Draco pretended to be detached and innocent. “I have a little more manners than that. And it’d be stupid. I already saw…”

“… Everything there is to see, yes, I know.”

Harry shut the door anyway.

* * *

The water was extremely hot. There was steam everywhere in the bathroom, even on the mirror. It could have burned Harry but that’s how he liked his shower. He liked having his skin bright red and wrinkled because he stayed under the water too long.

He was humming a song without paying attention. It was stupid, really, and dangerous to feel that insanely happy because everyone would notice. He smiled all the time like a fool. And he sang. But fortunately, with the water tapping against the tiled wall, he could barely hear his own voice. And of course, he didn’t hear the door opening and the footsteps inside the bathroom, coming closer and closer…

“You don’t sing very well, do you?”

Harry opened his mouth in surprise, hand full of shampoo frozen above his head.

“Draco?”

“Who else?” he answered while wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist.

His lips were leaving small kisses all over Harry’s shoulders and neck and alongside his jawline. He closed his eyes, lost in the sensations.

“I thought I might like a second shower,” Draco added between kisses, “and I’m sure this one will be much more interesting than the first one.”

His hands were slowly coming up Harry’s back, massaging the tense muscles and finally reaching his head where he slowly washed the rebellious hair. Harry let himself moan.

“You really have a terrible haircut.”

Harry didn’t answer and pushed his body against Draco’s, turning his head to kiss his cheek and watch him.

 _Merlin_ , he thought. How had he not noticed how handsome Draco was?

Draco’s freckles were still there, on his nose and Harry wanted to kiss them. He let his eyes wander and noticed the hands still around his waist. They were beautiful hands, elegant and soft. Talented. The hands were lowering, passing his belly button and Harry bit his lip with anticipation. Oh yes, this shower was about to become very interesting…

* * *

 “You’re going to be late.”

Harry sighed with exasperation. He bloody well knew he was going to be late! Impatiently, he almost fell while trying to put his sock on while standing.

“You should sit down,” Draco said while watching him with a smirk, “it’ll be a lot easier, I promise.”

Harry frowned at him.

“I was just trying to help you, that’s all.”

“Well stop trying to help me.”

Draco was standing near the door, perfectly dressed, his schoolbag on his shoulder, ready to eat breakfast in the Great Hall.

“You do know it’s your fault I’m late, right?” Harry asked.

“Oh I perfectly know that.”

Harry laced his shoes rapidly and checked his watch.

“Can you even imagine how late I am? I have to go back to the dorm, pick up my uniform and make sure no one notices me… And if someone does notice, I have to pretend having an irrepressible desire to have a morning walk…”

“Under the rain on top of that.”

Harry reluctantly glanced at the window. The park was drowned under the pouring rain and the trees were roughly shaken by wind.

“They’ll never believe me.”

“Worst case scenario, they’ll think you’re seeing someone.”

Harry turned his head towards Draco and asked carefully: “Am I?”

“Of course you are!” Draco growled. “But only here, I’m warning you. Outside this room, nothing changed. You’re not my friend and certainly not my boyfriend. It’s not that I like keeping it a secret but I can’t be found out, okay? Especially not now. My life is complicated enough at the moment…”

Harry nodded. “Does that mean we pretend to hate each other?”

“I suggest peaceful indifference.”

“No insults, no duel in the middle of a hallway…”

“Merlin, this year really is going to be boring.”

“Don’t worry,” Harry said, “I can still be interesting.”

Draco raised his eyebrows, suddenly very interested by their conversation. “Really?”

Harry was still siting on the unmade bed and looking down on Draco’s schedule left on the bedside table.

“Bloody hell, we almost have every class together! Can you imagine how difficult it’ll be for me to see you all day long without being able to talk to you?”

“Think of it as an exercise. Cold blood and self control. That might be useful for when you’ll be an Auror, don’t you think?”

“You’re not wrong,” Harry granted. “And what about you? What are all these classes for?”

“Nothing,” Draco eluded. “To pass time.”

Draco put his watch on without adding anything so Harry didn’t insist. He followed him as he walked away and stopped him when they arrived at the door. He kissed him slowly.

“See you tonight?”

"We’ll see each other a lot before tonight, Harry.”

“Yes but it won’t count, won’t it?”

Draco shook his head to hide his smile and it looked a lot like fondness. “See you tonight then.”

* * *

“Where were you, Harry?” Ron asked when he saw him entering the dorm. “We’re going to be late for breakfast and you know I hate eating my eggs without chewing them. It’s bad for my digestion.”

“I was outside.”

Harry’s wet hair made the lie believable. Well, almost believable.

“Oh. Did you have a nightmare?”

Harry nodded grimly while Ron patted his back amicably.

“Don’t worry mate, it’ll pass.”

And his absence was forgotten. It was just that easy.

In the Great Hall, in the middle of the light buzz of conversations and people eating, Harry felt a bit odd. As if, in Hogwarts, nothing had changed. Students wore the same faces as before and had the same friendships and rivalries.

Ron was eating extremely fast as always and speaking with his mouth full under Hermione’s annoyed stare.

“Have you seen the Daily Prophet’s front page?” he asked as he ate half a toast in one mouthful. “They’re announcing the beginning of the trials next week…”

Neville leaned towards the three of them.

"Well, we know one person who’s probably freaking out…” he laughed as he nodded towards Draco’s back at the Slytherin table. “Mummy and Daddy are about to be locked away behind bars.”

“And Baby Malfoy will be completely lost without them,” Dean added.

Harry felt his blood boil. He closed his eyes briefly to calm the anger growling inside him. He hadn’t even noticed how his breathing had accelerated.

“If he had at least tried to kill someone,” Ron continued, “he might have made the journey to Azkaban himself.”

All heads turned to Harry who swallowed nervously, eyes scanning the Gryffindor faces around him.

“What was I thinking, uh, the day that I saved him, right?” he asked with a fake smile.

Seamus patted his back. “Well, no one blames you, Harry. If you’d let him die, we wouldn’t have any fun now, would we?”

“Or scapegoat,” Hermione added severely. “You are impossibly immature.”

But Hermione was watching Harry with a suspicious expression. As if caught doing something wrong, Harry got up hurriedly and almost bumped right into Ginny who was walking by, her schoolbag on her shoulder. He held her so that she wouldn’t fall.

“Hi,” Harry said rigidly.

She answered with just as much coldness. One of her Sixth Year friend, a blonde girl with her face twisted in disdain, pulled her away while throwing Harry a nasty look.

“What happened with your girlfriend?” Seamus asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“And I don’t want to know!” Ron added while plugging his ears.

* * *

Harry's classes were laborious. His concentration was constantly slipping as he watched the sky turning grayer until it finally rained again. Where was summer? He couldn’t even reproduce simple spells but he knew he wouldn’t use them ever again outside of the Transfiguration classroom.

After a war, a year spent living alone with Ron and Hermione, being back there on school’s benches seemed useless. It didn’t feel like real life. Harry was biting the end of his quill, eyes fixed on Draco’s straight back, Draco’s hair, Draco’s neck as he worked on his parchment. He was listening to his voice when he spoke with his friends, his laugh when he joked with them. He stared at him so much he could have drilled two holes between his shoulder blades. 

It felt so weird to have a secret that big, a secret that made everything else more bearable because he knew he had someone to go to by the end of the day. Everything would feel like real life again.

“Mr Potter?” Professor McGonagall asked, “Can you repeat what I just said?”

Pulled away from his daydream, Harry turned his attention back to the classroom.

“Er…. No, sorry.”

Some Slytherin snickered. But not Draco. After all, they had agreed to peaceful indifference.

“Five points from Gryffindor. You’re not here to finish your night, Mr Potter. Concentrate, please.”

Concentration… If only he could. During the next class, Draco turned around, brows furrowed and threw him a piece of paper all crumbled. It said: _“stop staring at me, for Merlin’s sake!”_

Harry shrugged and smiled at him while Ron leaned towards him and asked:

“What does the ferret want with you?”

Harry, startled again, hid the piece of paper under his elbow.

“He wants to know if the smell comes from Hermione or my cauldron…”

Ron’s ears turned red and Harry wondered if he hadn’t gone too far.

“Tell him he’s an arsehole.”

Harry scribbled an answer on a piece of paper, carefully hiding it so that Ron wouldn’t see. _“Ron thinks you’re an arsehole. Guess what despicable lie I just told him.”_

He sent the paper discreetly and saw Draco carefully reading the paper and writing an answer:

“ _You told him I said the day he'll know how to properly make sentences his girlfriend might spend less time in the library every night? But is it really a lie though?”_  

Harry hid his laugh in a coughing fit.

_“You can’t imagine how much I want to kiss you at the moment.”_

He received Draco’s answer a few minutes later: _“Yes, I can.”_

Harry smiled a bit. When he raised his head, he noticed Ron staring at him wide-eyed, a hand suspended over his own cauldron.

“What makes you laugh?”

Harry tore the paper and cleared his throw.

“He’s just so stupid,” he said, trying to sound emotionless. Thankfully, Ron approved with a fervent nod.

In the back of the class, Seamus and Neville’s cauldron exploded. Just a regular day back in Hogwarts.

* * *

The last class was just over. Exhausted by the long hours spent working and his very short night, Harry had to drag his feet to go to the Great Hall. His stomach was growling. Ron’s too, actually, but with much less discretion.

“What’s that?” Hermione asked, showing them a group of students blocking the entry.

Harry looked up. His heart instantly started beating faster. At the center of the group formed by laughing students were Draco and Blaise Zabini. The word TRAITOR was written in big yellow letters on the back of their robes. It was impossible to miss. Laughs, insults and whistles were rapidly growing louder.

“Do you know that after one of their wars, the Muggles shaved the traitors’ heads?” Someone in the crowd yelled.

“Yeah, maybe we could shave something else,” somebody else suggested.

Nausea invaded Harry like a muddy wave overcoming him in the ocean.

“Everyone leave, now!” Professor McGonagall yelled as she arrived. She seemed furious.

Without looking to anyone, Draco picked up his books scattered on the floor, took off his robes and walked away from the Great Hall. Harry kept watching him until he disappeared.

He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

* * *

9 PM. Harry was relieved when he found Draco’s door, ajar, like the day before. His lungs worked properly again. He had been in apnea the rest of the evening. Draco didn’t hear him come in so Harry stayed in the entry. He was sitting on his bed in the middle of books and pieces of parchments.

Harry watched him a few minutes. His forehead was all wrinkled because he was concentrating.

 _He’s my boyfriend_ , Harry thought, and not without pride. That possessiveness didn’t even scare him anymore. Neither did his own addiction.

Draco turned his head and saw him, finally. He opened his arms and stretched on the bed.

Harry climbed on it and sat between Draco’s legs with such ease it disconcerted him for a moment.

“How do I work now, mmh?” Draco asked.

“Work? What a funny idea!”

“For you, perhaps, but do you know what’s going to happen if I get grades as crappy as yours?”

“What do you know about my grades?” Harry asked while stealing a cookie on Draco’s bedside table.

“Every day matters, Harry,” he said more seriously.

“Be careful, you begin to sound exactly like Hermione.”

Draco gritted his teeth. “Were you there, earlier?”

Harry nodded and said, not quite believing it: “They’ll calm down.”

“Don’t do anything. Promise me you won’t try to intervene,” Draco said, roughly pressing Harry’s shoulders.

He turned around, trying to make it the least awkward possible for them. There was a small ink stain on the corner of Draco’s mouth. “Promise.” With a smile in his eyes, he kissed the stain, licked the black ink with his tongue. And Draco sent all of his books and parchments on the floor with his feet. And then… Then their clothes were on the floor as well and their breathing was once again joined, skins moist, hands hurried and starving.

Afterwards, they collapsed on the bed, came back to Earth too quickly to their liking. Harry already wanted more. He wanted to have Draco make love to him. Really make love.

He hoped they would do that soon but he felt scared at the same time. But it was too late to back down. And anyway, that’s what you do when you’re in love, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't been able to upload last week, the place where I was had a terrible Internet connexion, I was barely able to browse Tumblr on my phone now and then. I want to make up for it so I'll upload a new chapter this week as well :) I hope you liked this one! Thank you for your comments and kudos again, you guys really are the best! Find me on Tumblr if you need to ask anything about the fic: casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com


	12. Nothing at all

The sun had set a long time ago - had it even risen already? The rain hadn’t stopped in two days, plunging the castle in a gloomy atmosphere. The night was cold, humid and the mist was licking their muddy shoes. Harry, Ron and Hermione were coming out of Hagrid’s cabin, scarves hiding their faces to protect them from the rain and the wind.

“Am I the only one who finds Hagrid weird?”

“He’s not weird, Ron,” Hermione countered, “the war left scars to everyone, that’s all.”

Harry kept quiet but he understood what Ron meant. Hagrid’s eyes hadn’t left Harry the entire evening as if he simply couldn’t forget what had happened in Forbidden Forest. Then, Hagrid had put three giants cookies on Harry’s plate, insisting: “Of course yer hungry!” when Harry had the misfortune of turning him down. Now, he had a stomach ache.

“Nothing reckless this year, Harry!” Hagrid had said while ruffling his hair as they were leaving.

Harry had promised. And yet… Sleeping in Draco’s bed curled up with his arms around him, kissing him, touching him, coming in his arms… Wasn’t it the most senseless and reckless thing he had ever done?

“And tell me again why I say yes every time?” Ron mumbled while massaging his stomach, “He just holds his plate in front of me and I swear I’d rather give my arm to a Skrewt than eat another of his cookies but…”

Ron didn’t finish his sentence. In the deafening noise of the rain falling hard on the muddy soil, they heard a muffled scream coming from the lake. They didn’t think, didn’t talk. It was like a reflex, the rise of the familiar adrenaline rushing in their veins, the smell of danger. They weren’t far so they started running. Harry almost slipped a few times because the field was completely flooded with water.

By the time they arrived, the screaming had stopped. Had they dreamt?

“Merlin!” Hermione yelled, placing a hand on her mouth. With the other one, she showed them a spot on the lake.

There was a body, motionless, spread out on the smooth surface, face turned to the water. Harry felt his stomach turning.

He went into the lake without thinking. Water immediately filled his shoes and dampened his clothes. It was so cold he felt like there were tiny needles pinching his skin. Ron joined him and after a minute swimming, they reached the body deriving slowly, carried by the weak swaying of the lake. Under the moon’s dim light, the floating body’s hair seemed blond, almost white. Harry was so scared he could have screamed.

 _It’s not him. It’s not him. It can’t be._ He repeated these sentences silently, again and again, until he was almost convinced.

“Bloody hell, it’s Malfoy!” Ron exclaimed, stunned, pulling his face roughly out of the water.

Harry nodded mechanically. He told himself it couldn’t be Draco, it didn’t look like him. Draco didn’t have cold skin, blue lips and a body as rigid as stone. Harry couldn’t look at him, couldn’t breathe properly. His legs shook too and his hands slipped from his hold on the unconscious boy in the water. He was rapidly losing his strength.

“Harry, help me!” Ron screamed. “That son of a bitch is heavy!”

Harry came out of his shock. He took Draco’s second arm and pulled his body to the shore. Hermione was waiting for them impatiently. Her look said: faster, come on boys, faster.

“Is he alive?” she asked with a Mediwizard’s tone when they crashed on the shore. She put her fingers on Draco’s throat, searching for a pulse. “I can feel a pulse but it’s very weak.”

Draco’s purple eyelids hadn’t even moved. He was lying on his back and he wasn’t moving. There was so much shadow on his face that the dark circles around his eyes looked more like traces of a punch. Harry pictured him fighting back as water surrounded him, invading his lungs.

He walked away from the body, bent forward and emptied his stomach.

“Mate, are you okay?” Ron asked, coming behind him and helping him up.

“Yeah, yeah it’s just… I don’t know… Hagrid’s cookies or the muddy water…”

How had he managed to keep the panic off his tone?

“It’d be stupid if he died now that the war is over,” Ron said, looking over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry retched, feeling nauseous again. He took deep breaths.

“But you know Hermione,” Ron added when he saw the look on Harry’s face, “she’ll patch him up in less time than it takes to say it. And you can be sure he’ll still be the same prick we know.”

Harry tried to smile. He turned around and watched Hermione and her wand pointed on Draco’s throat, her lips forming silent words. Ron’s prediction were confirmed and Draco suddenly started coughing. He spat water on the ground and his hands gripped the humid earth around him.

Harry got closer carefully, resisted the urge of running and pulling him in a hug, taking his face into his hands and kissing the cold away. Instead of that, he simply kneeled next to him and waited patiently for him to stop coughing and for their eyes to meet.

They did. And Draco’s were wide open and frozen in fear. Harry never wanted to see anything like it on his face ever again.

“Everything’s fine,” Harry said, helping him up.

“I was in the lake.”

“I know. We came to get you. It’s alright now.”

“How did you know where I was?”

“I didn’t. We were coming back from Hagrid’s and we heard someone screaming.”

“And we saved your arse, again,” Ron added.

Draco looked up. He didn’t seem to have noticed Ron and Hermione’s presence. He understood that Harry wasn’t the only one who saved him. His face changed instantly, became cold, withdrawn and haughty. He wasn’t the same person anymore and Harry wasn’t sure he liked that Draco.

“We’ll take you to the infirmary,” Hermione said carefully.

Draco became agitated, tried to get up but couldn’t do it which seemed to enrage him. “Don’t bother. I’m fine.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing. I was just walking near the lake. I slipped. I don’t know how to swim.”

Harry frowned. “Of course you do.”

“Oh yes?” Draco yelled, watching him coldly. “And how would you know, Potter?”

 _Because I was there with you in Guernesey, you git! I saw you swim and scuba dive and hide beneath the water to surprise me!_  

“Who did that to you?”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said? No one did that! NO ONE. So keep that savior act away from me and go back to your dorms. Go to bed and forget me. I don’t need you to play vigilante. And I don’t need your help. Got it?”

Harry stumbled back. “They could have killed you.”

Out of anger, Draco managed to get up. He eyed Harry scornfully, looking fierce despite his trembling legs and wet clothes.

“Fuck you, Potter.”

And then he walked away in the night, walking shakily.

“He’s in shock,” Hermione affirmed.

“Yeah, maybe, but he could have said thanks,” Ron mumbled. “That git! We really need to stop saving him, don’t you think? I’m sure he wouldn’t have done that for us if we were drowning.”

Harry shrugged uncomfortably. He remembered Draco’s limp body, his harsh words and wondered how much had been an act. “Maybe we should force him to go to the infirmary,” he said worriedly.

“He’s out of arm’s way. He just needs rest,” Hermione answered.

Harry promised himself he would immediately go to his room when they got back.

* * *

An hour later, Harry knocked at Draco’s door. He was impatient and anxious. Deep inside his pockets, his hands hadn’t stopped shaking.

Draco opened the door, only wearing his pajama’s bottoms. His hair was still a bit wet. He watched Harry, one eyebrow raised as if he were wondering what the hell he wanted. He still had the same closed face, same old proud looks. It was like being back a year or two ago when Draco hated him.

So Harry took a step forward, slid his arms around Draco’s waist and held him. He wanted to have his boyfriend back. He wanted the malice and the softness back. But Draco didn’t react, didn’t hug back. His arms stayed limp and his body awfully tense.

Harry hid his face in Draco’s neck.

 _He’s alive and that’s all that matters_ , he thought. _Hermione’s right, he must be in shock. But it’ll pass and everything will be okay._  

“You like the smell of mud from the lake, that’s good to know,” Draco drawled.

“You don’t smell bad, you smell like soap.”

“I know.”

Harry looked up and Draco stared at him for a moment. Then, he bent down and almost swallowed Harry’s mouth. He kicked the door to close it and pinned Harry against the wall. His hands were just as starving as his mouth, they were everywhere at once, under his clothes, on his face. But Harry knew that the hands on him weren’t exactly gentle. They were eager and desperate, they wanted to shut everything down, they wanted to forget.

And it wasn’t good.

Draco took a step back in order to take off Harry’s tie. He threw it over his shoulder, opened his shirt, unbuttoned his trousers.

Breathless, Harry pushed him away slowly. “What are you doing?”

“I want to fuck,” Draco had a perfidious smile. “Correction. I want to fuck _you_.”

Harry pushed him away, this time with more strength. “You know that’s not going to happen. Not like this.”

Draco backed away, eyes without emotion.

“Really? And what does Mr Potter want for his first time? Do you want me to be worthy of your greatness? Candles, romantic music, rose petals and nice silk sheets? Is that what you want? You want me to become romantic and sweet?”

“I just wish you weren’t so upset!”

“I’m not upset. And even if I were, I don’t see why it should stop us. Isn’t it exactly what you did? Slept with the Weasley girl because you were upset?”

Harry watched him, wide-eyed, surprised by his harshness.

“I’m not sleeping with you tonight and that’s the end of it,” Harry growled. “Damn it, someone tried to kill you!”

“It was an accident.”

“Don’t you dare think I’m that stupid, it wasn’t an accident!”

“So maybe I just tried to kill myself, Harry. Just like you in your bloody forest!”

Harry tried to slap him but Draco, being a talented Seeker, caught his hand before he could do it.

"I probably deserved that though.”

Harry was paralyzed. He had tried to hit him! He already felt guilty. 

Time, in suspension before, seemed to resume its course. Draco moved, as if nothing happened, as if Harry hadn’t tried to slap him. He opened the third drawer of his wardrobe, searched under a pile of clothes perfectly folded and found a bottle of red wine. He proposed a glass to Harry.

“Wine from Italy. Want some?”

Harry took a deep breath and shook his head. “No I think I’ll just head back to my dorm.”

“Suit yourself.”

Harry came closer, took Draco’s arm softly. “Don’t drink too much, alright?”

“I can’t promise you that, Potter,” Draco answered playfully, “especially since you don’t want to share with me. You see, I was saving this bottle for a hard blow. I thought it’d last more than a week.”

He shrugged and poured himself a drink. “Ah, chianti,” he sighed with a terrible Italian accent and a look that was meant to be seductive.

When he saw that it didn’t cheer Harry up, he dropped the glass roughly on his desk.

“They cast a spell on me, alright? During my rounds. Cotton legs or something like that. I couldn’t swim. My legs didn’t respond, my arms grew tired. I watched myself sink like a stone. And it was painful and terrifying, alright? Can I get drunk now?”

Harry struggled against the rage that invaded him. He wanted to find every single arsehole that had done this to him. But he forced himself to calm down.

“Why you?”

“What do you think?” Draco answered sharply. “I’m the only Death Eater stupid enough to come back to Hogwarts. A miracle for aspiring vigilantes! I wondered why you’re not their worshipped leader, actually.”

“Don’t be silly,” Harry mumbled while passing a hand through his hair. “That’s not justice, it’s stupid revenge. I will never be a part of that, Draco, how can you think that?”

He sighed and kissed Draco slowly. “Just don’t be sick in your bed tonight.”

Harry felt Draco smile and his hands caressing his back.

“I still want to fuck you, Harry, you know that?”

Harry left his arms, an amused smile on his lips. “I want you to do that too, Draco, so keep asking me. I’ll say yes some day.”

Draco laughed. It was so spontaneous and full of warmth and life, Harry knew he could leave him alone. Even though he wanted to stay, very much so actually. Getting drunk and forgetting everything that had happened. But he didn’t trust himself: he knew that he wouldn’t be able to resist Draco. He had already messed up his first time with Ginny; he didn’t want to mess his first time with Draco too. Regardless of how selfish it sounded.

He walked to the door reluctantly.

“You really are a tease, Potter. I would never have guessed.”

Once he was in the hallway, Harry walked towards McGonagall’s office. He had promised he wouldn’t intervene, yes, but he couldn’t just stay put when people threatened to kill Draco. What if he wasn’t there to save him next time?

* * *

“You think the Ferret will ignore us and go back to his old arrogant and haughty self?” Ron whispered while they waited outside of the Transfiguration class’s door.

“Ron!”

“Yes, Hermione, I know, he was in shock.”

Harry was expecting to see Draco with an enormous hangover. If he even managed to get up. And yet, when he arrived in the hallway, Draco seemed more like… furious. His tie was backwards and his hair was completely messed up.

When he arrived in front of them, he grabbed Harry’s arm as violently as he could, probably leaving a mark. He dragged him farther, ignoring Ron’s protests and threats. He opened the first door he found. The classroom was occupied but Draco slammed the door without apologizing. He opened another one, this time thankfully empty, and threw Harry inside.

“You promised me!” he yelled, face distorted by anger.

“Yes, I promised but at that time, no one had tried to kill you.”

“You little shit! Do you want me to tell you what’s going to happen now? First of all, thanks to your little chat with the Headmistress, I’m no longer Head boy. McGonagall thinks my rounds are too dangerous and make me vulnerable. Just like having my own bedroom. So I’m back to my wonderful dorm with my wonderful friends who never flush the toilet and stink.”

“It’s not that bad, Draco,” Harry mumbled, “we can find another place to meet.”

“Oh but that’s the least of my concerns, Potter,” Draco answered with a joyless laugh, “What’s important is that the old hag has written to my parents. My father has not only sent the Howler of the century but he also threatened McGonagall to sue the entire school. He even asked me to come home.”

“Will you?”

“Is that all you care about?”

Harry wanted to tell him that yes, it was everything he cared about. He couldn’t keep wandering alone in the castle when some nutter wanted to kill him.

“Well no, Potter, I’m not going home. It’s only fair that I have the same future as you, the Weasel or the stupidest Hufflepuff student.”

He seemed about to tear his hair off his head.

“I just wanted to protect you.”

“But I don’t want you to protect me, Harry,” he sounded weary now. “Listen, I think it’s better if we stop now. Because it’s exactly as I thought it’d be: complicated and messed up. I’m sorry, I can’t do this, Harry.”

“Do what?” Harry whispered, a lump in his throat.

He didn’t dare move. He was staring at Draco as if he were announcing the inevitable end of the world. And there was nothing to be done in order to save it now.

“I can’t be with someone who constantly worries about me and meddles with my affairs. I’m not made for a this, I told you so. I thought I could do this, have a proper relationship with you. But I can’t and I’m really sorry.”

His eyes were. There was regret in them, ill-concealed tenderness. He touched Harry’s cheek briefly and without a word, left the empty classroom.

Harry collapsed on the wall, eyes closed.

 _Come on, pull yourself together,_ he thought. He looked up, breathed in and out. He told himself it was nothing, nothing at all. Nothing compared to all of the deaths he had witnessed.

Nothing compared to the darkness of the Forbidden Forest, to his sacrifice - standing up alone, waiting for death, what was worst than that?

He told himself that no, decidedly, it was nothing he couldn’t overcome. He just needed to blow on his wound to stop the pain like he would on a child’s scratch. He would swallow it up, mask it, bury it like he did with everything else.

It was just that and nothing else, not a big deal. It was nothing, nothing, nothing.

But why did it hurt so much then?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, another chapter this week because I missed one while I was on holiday. You’re probably hating me right now, I know but this fic needs a little bit of angst now and then! I'm also going back to school tomorrow and it isn't Hogwarts :(  
> New chapter next Monday, thank you again for all the love and have a nice day/evening!  
> Find me on Tumblr: casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com


	13. You were saving my life

Harry woke in the middle of the night, startled by a nightmare. He couldn’t remember where he was. His eyes were stuck to the ceiling but he could see red curtains surrounding him. The Gryffindor dorm? Around him, his classmates were profoundly asleep. Neville was snoring regularly at the other side of the room and Ron was sound asleep as well, feet exceeding the size of his bed.

The window was closed but Harry’s hands were so cold they felt like two pieces of iceberg. He couldn’t feel his toes, his fingers were itching painfully. His skin hurt and his lungs couldn’t work properly because of the weight on his chest. He told himself that if he finally let out all the tears he held back, he would get ice on his cheeks and little pieces of it in his eyelashes.

Was he dying?

He got up, pulled his drenched sheets off and passed a hand through his wet hair. His vision was blurrier than it had ever been.

_I’m dying._

His legs could barely carry him, just like when he sat down too long and his limbs became numb. Harry stumbled to the wall, knocked his feet on a trunk and almost fell twice before getting to the bathroom. He walked to the door with the uneven breathing of an asthmatic boy and opened it.

He switched the light on and immediately splashed hot water over his face. But it wasn’t enough, he still felt so cold. Breathless, he put his head in the sink. The burning water soaked his shirt and steamed started to fill the bathroom.

“Harry?” a far-away voice called.

Harry closed his eyes, hands gripping the white sink.

“Bloody hell Harry, what are you doing?”

It was Ron. Ron’s voice. But he couldn’t hear properly over the sound of his teeth chattering. Were they going to break eventually?

Ron shut off the water and pulled Harry back firmly. He took him by the shoulders and forced him to look up. But Harry was blinking without seeing, shaking because of the cold or the fear; he didn’t know which exactly.

“What are you doing, Harry?” Ron said while shaking him.

“I don’t… Nothing….”

“Don’t move, okay? You hear me?”

Harry nodded. But as soon as Ron left, he hopped into the shower fully dressed. It was silly, really. So silly he started laughing without being able to stop. He fell on the floor, sat against the tiles and let himself try to calm down under the hot water. Yes, it was much better like this. He didn’t care he was still wearing all of his clothes. He didn’t care that his friends would probably think he’s insane. Better completely mad than dead, right? And what would people even write on his grave?

_“Here lies Harry Potter, died of hypothermia. He had yet survived a war.”_

He laughed again.

“Merlin’s pants!” Ron yelled as he came in the bathroom again, followed by Hermione, “I told you not to move!”

Hermione stopped at the door, stunned. She had disheveled hair but she was wide awake despite the time. She was watching him laughing, sitting in the shower with his clothes on and probably wondering if this time he had actually lost it. Neville, Seamus and Dean were behind her, faces worried. She slammed the door in their faces.

Then, she sat down on the floor not too far away from Harry.

“What’s going on?” she asked softly.

Harry looked in her eyes and stopped laughing because there was such worry and fear inside them. He held a wet hand to her. Hermione took it and squeezed it a bit too softly as if she feared it would break into thousands of tiny littles pieces.

 _Tiny pieces of Harry Potter_ , he thought, half smiling, _it has to be worth millions._

“Talk to me, Harry…” It was just a worried whisper. Harry couldn’t resist; he obeyed.

“I’m cold, Hermione,” he confessed, “so cold. Almost all the time ever since the war. The forest. But it was getting better. I think it did. Except tonight it’s unbearable. Really, it’s never been this way before. I’m so cold it hurts. Do you think I’m dying?”

She frowned. “No, Harry, of course not.”

“What if I was already dead, Hermione?” Harry insisted in a detached tone as if he were speaking of the next Quidditch game or a Transfiguration paper he’d need advice on and not about what terrified him beyond words. “What if the spell had killed something inside of me and not just a part of Voldemort’s soul? His and mine, they were connected to each other… What if…?” He closed his eyes. “What if I killed mine as well?”

Hermione was crying now and Harry didn’t understand why.

“Listen to me,” she said fiercely, almost crushing his hand now, “the only thing you killed that night is Voldemort. I know it disturbs you and that you don’t really know who you are anymore. I would too. I wouldn’t be able to stop asking myself thousands of questions. But Ron and I, we know who you are, Harry. And if you need us to tell you, again and again, we will! Until you know it yourself. Until you’re sure.”

“But the cold…”

“It’s in your head, Harry. Only in your head. What happened tonight was a panic attack. It’s impressive and scary but it isn’t serious. If it can make you feel better, it’s awfully common. I promise you.”

Hermione let go of his hand. She got up and turned the shower off.

“Did you speak about that with Healer Johnson?”

“No.”

 _I talked to Draco._ He thought about him and the cold seemed to get worse. Panic attack, huh? Harry was skeptical. These kind of attacks were supposed to come and go, right? Well, the cold didn’t. It was always there.

 _Except when I’m in Draco’s arms._  

Harry could have slapped himself for thinking that. It was over between them. Over.

“Then do it, Harry,” Hermione insisted, “she’ll reassure you better than me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, Mione.”

He looked at his feet, unable to tear his eyes off them. He didn’t want to see Ron who hadn’t spoke a word and was still standing by the door.

“Don’t be embarrassed, mate,” Ron said as if he had read his mind, “after Fred died, I was much worse than that. You can ask Hermione if you don’t believe me.”

Harry sighed and got up awkwardly. His soaked pajamas were now dripping on the floor. He grabbed a towel, started to dry his hair and finally looked up. Ro bit his lip when Hermione turned her head towards him. Harry’s mouth twitched.

They all burst out laughing. Just like that. Despite the severity of Harry’s confession and his consuming fears, they all laughed like it might save their lives. Maybe it actually was saving their lives…

The door opened and Seamus entered the room, frowning. He watched them one after the other for a moment, Ron holding his stomach because he had laughed so hard, Hermione wiping her eyes and Harry with his shoulders still trembling slightly.

“Blimey, you really are complete nutters, aren’t you?” 

* * *

Harry still slept badly. He turned and turned around, battled with his sheets, hunted his nightmares like he would with recalcitrant mosquitos in summer. At 7:00 AM, he was up, all dressed up and his hair was as combed as possible. With his schoolbag under his arm, he started walking towards the Great Hall without his friends who were still asleep after being up most of the night.

At that time, the Hall was quiet and almost deserted. Harry needed that silence. The day before, he had had to eat in public and a group of First Year Gryffindors had sat next to him and watched him spread butter with “the hand that had killed Voldemort!” (Ron still wasn’t over it.)

The rain had finally stopped. Instead, the heat had mysteriously returned and Autumn got back to being a distant threat. The Great Hall’s ceiling was blue and there wasn’t one cloud in perspective, sunshine fell on the long wooden tables just like summer hadn’t really ended.

Harry sat at his usual spot, opened the Quibbler and took a bite of his toast while getting lost in his reading. It was about the trials and the chaos of reorganizing the Ministry. Soon, he noticed a shadow on the bench next to him. He expected to see Ron or Hermione but no, it was Draco. Harry almost spat out his pumpkin juice. Halfway sat on the bench, one elbow on the table, he was watching him.

“I know,” he drawled, “I’m a complete git.”

“Good thing you acknowledge it,” Harry mumbled while turning a page. “You know, as they say, accepting the illness is the first step on the recovery road. Even if, in your case, it’s rather a desperate attempt.”

“Have you slept?”

“Yes, I slept,” Harry answered, puzzled.

“No you didn’t. You look terrible.”

Harry sighed.

“Thanks for the compliment, Malfoy. What do you want with me? Except ruin my appetite? Because if I remember correctly, you were the one who wanted to be as far away from me as humanly possible in Hogwarts, am I right?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Harry sneered and started eating without paying attention to him.

“It’s not because we’re not together anymore that we can’t talk,” Draco continued.

“Sorry but that won’t be possible. I think I’d rather be Zachariah Smith’s best friend. And Merlin knows I can’t stand the prick.”

“Harry, damn it, don’t be so stubborn.”

“I’ll stop being stubborn when you’ll stop being a moron. But I think we both know that’s never going to happen.”

“I’m sorry about yesterday, alright?” Draco whispered as he leaned towards Harry. “I know I didn’t react properly. I was angry and furious and yes, I was upset. I was probably tactless. But you promised me you would stay out of this and the minute I turned my back, you ran to McGonagall!”

"I’m sorry, Draco, for being worried about your life.”

He sighed. “I don’t know how to explain it to you…”

“That’s right,” Harry said ironically while shredding his eggs in his plate without even noticing, “I’m so stupid I might not understand.”

Draco ignored him. “You know that my parents’ trial is next week, right? And you also know that they will be spending long years in Azkaban and there’s nothing to be done about it?”

“I don’t see what it has to do with this.”

“When she asked me to come to her office yesterday morning, McGonagall told me that for the first time in her life, she agreed with my father. She said I was completely stupid and insane for wanting to stay here. That I could take correspondence courses at home. But I don’t want to go there, there’s nothing but ghosts and blood and screams there. It’s like someone asked you to camp in the Forbidden Forest. Do you understand?”

Harry swallowed with difficulty. It seemed the bacon he just ate was stuck somewhere in his throat. He realized now, how much he had been stupid and impulsive.

“I think so, yes.”

They looked at each other for a moment and Draco smiled sadly.

“Trust me, it wouldn’t have worked. You and I.”

“How would you know?” Harry retorted. “You didn’t even want to try.”

Draco got up without answering. Students were starting to fill the Great Hall’s benches. With them arrived noise, laughs and life.

“Don’t think I’m not grateful for saving my life,” Draco said while picking up his schoolbag. “Again. I just wish… I just wish I could do the same. I wish I could save myself too, sometimes. And also… It’s stupid, really, and arrogant but I wish I could have saved yours somehow, at least once.”

Harry sighed and looked right into Draco’s eyes.

“It’s exactly what you were doing though,” he whispered, “until yesterday. You were saving my life. Every minute.”

Draco’s stare became so odd Harry had to look down on his plate to his shredded eggs. He cheeks were burning.

“Oh, the Ferret!” Ron exclaimed while letting himself fall loudly on the bench next to Harry. “Came here to say thanks? Took you long enough.”

Draco walked away and left without saying a word. His steps echoed in the Great Hall as the ticking of a clock would.

“Well done!” Ron added, starting to butter his toast. “I don’t know what you said to him but he seemed just about to burst into tears.”

* * *

The rest of the morning went by without accident. Almost. There was a crowd waiting outside of the greenhouses when Harry went to his Herbology class. He immediately searched for signs of a new Slytherin lynching but found none. Unfortunately, his relief was very short. Indeed, he suddenly recalled the note at the Great Hall’s entrance stating that there would be a ball to celebrate the beginning of a new school year, the end of the war and the castle’s reconstruction, so on and so forth. The huge crowd was simply girls waiting for Harry. They all wanted to invite him.

Ron couldn’t resist and laughed.

“An autograph, Harry, please?” he imitated, elbowing him slightly in the ribs. “Can I lick your shoes, carry your bag, do all of your homework and go to class instead of you?”

Harry blamed the Headmistress for the ball. He didn’t want a date, he didn’t want to be stared at and most of all, he didn’t want to dance. And now, he blamed her for the potion class as well because this sudden idea of mixing up houses definitely came from her. Slughorn therefore decided it’d be extremely smart to work in pairs. And of course, he decided that Harry and Draco would work together. Obviously.

He turned towards Ron and pretended to hang himself, tongue pulled out and bulging eyes before walking to his desk at the back of the class. He threw his bag on the floor and sat on the stool, head turned to the right where there was no Draco.

“I’m so lucky,” Draco said with fake joy while lighting a fire under their cauldron, “I got the best Potion student Hogwarts has ever known.”

Harry knew he was talking about his previous prowesses last year.

“Don’t expect me to help,” he said flatly, “I cheated the entire Sixth Year.”

They worked silently. Harry was so aware of the presence next to him that it itched him like an old scar. The potion was awfully complex. Harry cut, chopped, peeled but mostly, he was watching Draco. His face leaning over their cauldron, the lock of hair hiding his left eye, his concentrated frown while he was biting his lips. Harry thought he hardly remembered what they felt like on his own. It had barely been two days.

Two days. It seemed it had been months instead of days, months spent in a haze, searching for something different than the usual school-sleep-school-sleep. Draco turned his head and caught Harry watching him.

"Not so big, the pieces,” he said, annoyed.

Harry smiled at him and cut the roots in even bigger pieces.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

Harry threw the roots in the cauldron. He knew it wasn’t the time to add them to their potion but he didn’t care at all. He needed to provoke him, make him pay somehow. It was childish but when the potion became slightly orange and started to boil, he felt smug. Draco looked pissed and suddenly Harry felt slightly better.

* * *

“You should cut some slack with Malfoy,” Hermione told him later that day. “It was mean to sabotage his potion like this.”

Harry shrugged but the joy he had experienced was now gone and he felt stupid and guilty. Which was quite disastrous for his concentration. He couldn’t work on his Transfiguration paper so he packed his things and left the common room. Once outside, he headed towards the Quidditch pitch. He was going to wait for Draco to finish his training and then he’d apologise.

He was the last one to leave the changing rooms, wearing only an old pair of jeans and a grey shirt. If he was surprised to see Harry, he didn’t show any sign of it. He headed towards him, eyebrows raised high.

“So, Potter, came to spy on the Slytherin team?”

“No. I wanted to apologised for what happened in Potions.”

Draco kept quiet and Harry, uncomfortable, was dancing on his feet.

“I’m having trouble with… you know… dealing with all of this,” he mumbled, watching the grass. “Accepting the fact that I liked you was hard enough already but I was finally okay with it. Except now I have to accept that I lost it. And weirdly enough, it’s even harder,” he laughed awkwardly. “And I wish we could still be friends too. I mean, if you’re still okay with it even though I really messed up our assignment in Potions today. Looks like you’re not the only one who fucks up.”

A tiny smile appeared briefly on Draco’s way too serious face.

“We’ll start talking when you’ll stop apologising, okay? I don’t want you to. I’m not stupid, you know. I understand why you did what you did and I’m not talking about the potion. I don’t give a crap about that. So stop apologising because otherwise I will too and this is going to get boring and pathetic. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good,” Draco said. “Now we can talk.”

Harry nodded. Now, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to say.

“As you seem to have lost your tongue, Harry, I’ll do the speaking. What did you mean exactly when you said that I was saving your life?”

“Oh, uh… I don’t know… Just that I had less trouble… uh. I,” he sighed and waited a few seconds so he could find his words, “I was happy. That’s all.”

Draco had that strange look again, both sad and intense. Harry couldn’t watch him anymore so his eyes found Draco’s new broomstick.

“As good as you hoped it would be?”

Draco seemed to relax. “Better. You need to try it. If you want.”

“I’d like to, yes.”

Harry wanted to believe they could become friends again. Of course, they had managed pretty well but that was before. Before they crossed the line and became something more. But now, he couldn’t believe being friends would be enough. Talk politely to Draco when they met. That and nothing more. No more kissing, no more feeling his naked skin against his own nor the fire in his body when they touched each other.

Oh yes, Draco had saved his life. So many times since the beginning of summer. He just needed to close his eyes to remember: so many places, so many bursts of life. He had fallen in love with Draco, softly, evidently. And only a living person could feel what he felt. He had been so scared of being dead ever since he sacrificed himself in the forest but now he understood he had never been so wrong in his life…

He was _alive_. It wouldn’t hurt that much if he weren’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve had a rough day. It’s been one of those days you can’t escape, you feel trapped and hopeless and nothing can cheer you up. This fic has always meant the world to me but today it became my safe place. I hope you can find it here as well or in any other fic, book, movie or anything else you enjoy. As long as it’s there, you can never get lost. Thank you for all the love, find me on Tumblr if you have any questions: casknowsaboutwizards.com


	14. One last favour

Sunday. Hogwarts’s lawns were starting to turn yellow under the burning sun. Harry wanted to be able to enjoy the heat, close his eyes and feel the soft breeze on his face and stop thinking but he was trapped in a maze, going in, losing himself, never finding his way out. He stumbled, tripped over his memories. Draco was there at every turn, every detour, every dead-end. He was running away from him but he kept appearing everywhere.

_Bloody hell, there must be an off switch somewhere, right?_

Harry had found an isolated and quiet spot not very far from the lake and was trying to relax. Alone. Away from the crowd, the hungry eyes, the heads turned towards him. And especially away from the girls. They were following him everyday, lurking ridiculously in the corners while giggling with their friends. They couldn’t hide their disappointment when he told every single one of them that no, sorry, he wasn’t looking for a date.

Goddam ball.

Suddenly he felt a shadow hiding the sun from his face and the warmth left him almost instantly. He looked up; the shadow was thin and blond-haired. It had been four days since they had last talked, four days Harry had impatiently waited for a visit. Except it hadn’t come.

He studied the face in front of him. Serious, yes, but not furious. That was something.

“Can I talk to you?”

Harry nodded and Draco let himself fall on the grass next to him. He leaned back with a sigh of contentment, arms folded behind his neck. His white t-shirt was slightly lifted and revealed a stripe of white skin right above his belt. Harry wanted to reach out and touch it, kiss it. After all, he had already done so in another life.

“I received a letter from my mother this morning. She said you were going to testify at her trial tomorrow.”

The tone was almost accusing so Harry straightened his back to answer.

"I know that you’re allergic to anything that comes close to a favour, Draco. That it makes you ill and so on. So rest assured, if I do this, it’s not for you, it’s for her. And frankly, I still don’t understand why it wasn’t your idea in the first place.”

“Asking you something like this was way out of line, don’t you think?”

“Too proud or convinced I was going to say no?”

Draco smiled amusingly. “Both.”

“I wouldn’t have said no,” Harry answered, annoyed. “Your mother saved my life. When I was lying there, busy trying to calm my breathing so it wouldn’t show, she saved me. I owe her. That’s the end of it.”

“You really want me to owe you till the end of my days, right?”

“I take an unhealthy pleasure in that,” Harry grinned.

Draco’s eyes slipped on the side, lingered on Harry’s body. “What’s that jumper? It’s like we’re back in August again today.”

“I’m shy about my body, remember? And I don’t like to show my arms. They’re ugly.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Draco hissed, “I’m not stupid. I know your little neurosis all by heart.”

“Because you’ve got the same?” Harry joked.

“The same? Until proven contrary, I don’t think I’m an iceberg drifting in the sea, Potter. There’s only you to be that messed up.”

“Fuck you, Malfoy,” Harry groaned, “my neurosis says fuck you as well. My jumper and my iceberg too.”

“The Portkey leaves tomorrow at 8 o’clock sharp right outside the castle,” Draco continued, holding back his laugh. “Don’t be late. And now if I were you, I would stay away from the sun. You do know what happens to naughty little ice cubes who stay too long under the sun… they melt.”

Harry punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Shut up. You know I can still change my mind.”

“Come on Harry, we both know you can’t.”

Draco got up, almost jumping to his feet. As he walked away, he gave Harry a brief sign with his hand over his shoulder and suddenly he was alone again in his spot, smiling to a very nice back (Draco’s white t-shirt was like a second skin, leaving few things to imagination).

Harry returned to his usual sulking quickly enough when he realized he needed to stop fantasizing. He would never get out of his maze otherwise.

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke up exhausted. The nightmares and the cold had occupied his mind all night. And now he was late. He swore, pushed back his three covers and dragged himself to the bathroom, goosebumps all over his legs and arms. He stayed a long time under the shower, trying to warm up.

On the way to the Portkey, he grabbed a toast in the Great Hall and sprinted outside. His wet hair was still dripping on his shoulders when he arrived next to Hagrid’s cabin. Draco was already there, under the grayish and clouded sky. He was wearing beautiful black robes, stark and formal, and was pacing with his hands crossed behind his back. Harry winced and looked down to his simple black trousers and sort of grayish shirt and felt slightly ashamed.

 _A trial,_ Harry, he swore internally, _you’re going to a bloody trial._

“Why do I have the impression that my clothes are way too casual for this?”

Draco stopped pacing altogether and stared at him. “It’s alright, it’ll be fine like this.”

“You do know you look like you’re about to go to the cemetery, right?”

“Are you done eating?” Draco retorted.

Harry nodded, mouth full.

“You’ve got crumbs everywhere,” Draco grimaced while wiping Harry’s shirt.

“Hey! I was saving that for later!”

Draco pretended to find this funny and looked up to the castle’s clock. The movement revealed a purple bruise at the base of his neck.

“What’s that?” Harry asked.

Draco pulled on his collar to hid it. “Never seen a hickey in your life, Potter?”

Harry, startled, felt like a huge stone had been dropped in his stomach. _A hickey,_ he told himself, _someone made him a hickey._

“Relax, I was just joking,” Draco added, rolling his eyes when he noticed Harry’s expression. “Now, if you’ll give me your hand, the Portkey is about to leave. And without you if you don’t hurry up a bit.”

There was an old coin in the center of Draco’s palm; Harry only had time to put his hand on it before they disappeared. As he felt the familiar twinge of dizziness, he thought that if it wasn’t a hickey on Draco’s pale skin then someone must have hit him.

* * *

When they arrived at the Ministry, Harry looked even more nervous and petrified than Draco. His throat was tight, his mouth dry and his fists clenched over his knees. Of course, Draco wasn’t much better and had even started pacing back and forth in front of the court’s closed door.

“You’re making my head spin,” Harry said, pulling Draco’s sleeve.

Startled, Draco sat on the bench, eyes fixed on the floor. It was as if Harry had just pulled him out of a nightmare. The trial was public just like all the other ones about Death Eater activities. Journalists and photographers were waiting behind that door, asking questions after questions and snapping shots of the trials. And of course, a reportedly insane rumor had gone wild: Harry Potter was going to testify. The crowds of journalists were even larger, they had all come to see the Chosen One as if he were a rock star.

 _Great_ , Harry thought.

“What should I tell them?”

Draco watched him intensely and Harry’s fingers almost moved on their own accord to put a lack of wild blond hair back behind his ear and cup his face.

“You know, that’s why I didn’t ask you to testify. You look like you’re about to faint.”

“I’m fine!” Harry protested. “I just don’t know where to stop. Should I tell them why I surrendered myself to Voldemort without even trying to fight back?”

“No,” there was urgency in Draco’s tone now. “Especially not that. You can never know how these ravenous journalists will react. Do you want to be in the headlines? “Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived With Voldemort’s Soul”? Very catchy, yes, but it’ll be hell for you. And everywhere, even at school. So, I don’t know, tell them the bloody war had to stop. And he wanted _you_.”

Harry nodded, lost in his own thoughts. He knew it wouldn’t convince everyone and he was right. The trial lasted hours, long and exhausting hours Harry wished he would never have to go through again.

He had stepped in the middle of the excited whisper of the audience, a bit shaky. His trembling legs gave him an uncertain balance and his hands kept getting moist. It was like liquid fear was pouring out of him.

Once he was on the stand, in front of the jury, he had hoped that it would be fast and that everyone would believe him instantly. But the man who interrogated him didn’t think that way. With his enormous black glasses and his hair slicked black, he looked almost aggressive. He pushed Harry towards places he didn’t want to go, asked him details - too many of them. It was as if he were the one being judged and maybe he was.

For a few seconds, Harry had gone back there. In the forest.

He saw everything again, the darkness between the trees, the clouded sky and he heard branches breaking under his feet, felt the fear in his gut, the ghosts by his side. All his dead relatives walking beside him. And then the green light and the white King Cross Station. Why didn’t you fight back? Why didn’t the spell kill you?

Harry was trying so hard to get back to the subject of his testimony, Narcissa Malfoy. It was about her, not him. She was sitting with her back straight, elegant in her black dress and tight hair bun. She never once took her eyes off Harry. She looked tense and pale; Harry could understand why, so far he hadn’t made much progress. He was going to disappoint Draco. So he tried to speak louder, again and again.

But why wasn’t anyone listening to him? Why? He was getting angry. It was dangerously burning in his chest.

“She saved my life,” he yelled, standing up, “how many times do I need to repeat it?”

The whispers turned into an animated conversation. It took three knocks of the judge and a threat to have everybody out of the courtroom to get the silence back.

“You know she didn’t do that for you, Mr Potter. She wanted to save her son. You’re not naive enough to believe that she cared about your fate at all? Why would you want to protect a Death Eater’s wife? A wife who, on top of all the crimes she’s accused of, let You-Know-Who live in her own manor during the war!”

“And you, you’re not stupid enough to think that she had any choice?” Harry protested with as much spite as he could. The whispers started again in the courtroom. “She didn’t need me alive to get back to her son. It was even the contrary. To get back to the castle, I had to pretend I was dead. She lied to Voldemort so I could try and kill him when he expected it the least. If she had told him the truth which would have been a lot safer for her than lying, I wouldn’t be here today. Maybe you wouldn’t either.”

When he sat back next to Draco, he was exhausted. It was like he had spent hours running. He felt empty and suddenly, there was a wave growing bigger and bigger inside him. He felt it right on the corner of his eyes, pushing and pushing… Hadn’t he done enough for these people? Was that how they thanked him?

“Not now,” Draco whispered.

“What?”

“All the tears you held back for weeks, don’t let them out here, okay? Not now.”

“I sucked, right?” Harry managed with a tight throat.

“You idiot. Of course not. You were brilliant.”

Draco took off the heavy robes on his shoulders and threw them on his knees. His hand snuck under and grabbed Harry’s, away from everyone’s eyes. They held on until the trial was over. And just because of this, Harry could have finally let the tears out.

Narcissa Malfoy was cleared of all charges. It was just that easy.

Harry blinked. He thought he had messed up all her chances. He tried to catch Draco’s eyes but the only thing he was now looking at was his mother. He was smiling wildly. Harry thought it was insanely beautiful, all this light and happiness on him.

Narcissa walked towards them. They rose together. Beaming, she threw her arms around her son who hugged her back, still smiling. Harry felt like an intruder so he tried to walk away discreetly. However he was held back and startled by an almost motherly embrace.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear.

Harry shrugged. She stepped away from him and put her hands around his face.

“When you walked towards us, in the forest, all alone, I wondered how you could be so determined, Harry. You didn’t even seem scared. I thought: “Merlin, this is just a child.” And I thought of Draco. I thought you had his age, that it could have been him…”

Harry dared to look up. She smiled.

“You were so brave.”

“It wasn’t that,” Harry protested while watching his feet awkwardly. “It’s just, I had no choice.”

“Well you had a choice today and thanks to you, I’m free to go. We owe you, Harry.”

She hugged him again quickly. Draco hadn’t moved but when their eyes met, his mouth formed silents word. A “thank you” that Harry cherished even more than Narcissa’s. He walked away and let them enjoy their small victory.

* * *

When the Portkey took them back to Hogwarts, they had still an hour left before their next class. And they had missed lunch. They settled in the Three Broomsticks, away from the other tables. The place was almost empty now anyway, there were just a few clients sitting by the bar. Draco had his hands joined in front of him and a concentrated frown upon his face.

Harry laughed and said: “You look like a priest.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. He grinned. “It’s because it’s time for your confession.”

“You know more about Muggles than you let on, do you?” Harry asked. “Do you really hate them by the way?”

“I don’t hate everything they are, no,” he conceded, “I have to admit they’re even better than us sometimes…”

“Oh yeah? What do they do better than us?”

Draco seemed to think about this seriously.

“I don’t know, music maybe. Ours is just atrocious. Have you noticed? Not one bloody song without the words cauldron, potion or dragon. It’s pathetic.”

“Do you listen to Muggle music then?” Harry laughed, not quite believing it.

Draco smiled mysteriously. Madam Rosmerta brought them food and they started eating. Harry was starving.

Once she was out of sight, Draco asked: “So, what about that confession?”

“Now you sound just like Healer Johnson.”

Draco watched him sternly.

“Okay, I’ll confess,” Harry conceded. “Last week, I showered in the middle of the night, fully clothed, because I was cold.” He ate a french fry. “And Friday, I went back to the forest but it was impossible to find the spot again. I could have screamed in frustration.”

Silent, Draco had stopped eating and was now watching Harry intensely as if he was trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

“And Sunday morning,” Harry said at last, “I touched myself while thinking of you.”

Draco almost chocked. “You’re not even slightly embarrassed to tell me this?”

“Apparently it’s healthy. And everyone does it,” Harry shrugged.

“Thinking of me?”

Harry couldn’t stop laughing as he watched Draco’s incredulous expression.

“Who are you taking to the ball?” he asked, curious.

“Pansy. You?”

“I suppose I can’t invite you. So no one. Frankly, if I could, I wouldn’t even show up but McGonagall wants me to make a speech in front of the whole school. About the war and the unity of houses and so on… If I had known, I wouldn’t even have come back to Hogwarts.”

Harry waited a moment before asking slowly, carefully choosing his words. “How was it for you? The war?”

Draco wiped his fingers on a paper towel and sighed. His eyes were closed and he was frowning.

“It was like a nightmare. A nightmare you know you’re never going to wake up from. I think I never stopped feeling terrified, never let my guard down, never stopped being careful. I told myself during all these long months that if I didn’t pay attention, I’d end up dead. That maniac was sick. Sometimes he would just become crazy and kill whoever was closest to him for no reason. And it could have been me or my parents.”

His voice was so weak that Harry had trouble earring correctly.

“And there were prisoners in the manor. All the time. They cried and screamed when they were tortured. He invited them at table sometimes and made us watch as his snake ate them. You can’t even imagine what these things can swallow in one go.”

Draco’s eyes were still closed. Harry felt like crying again.

“I haven’t had a good night sleep ever since…”

Harry moved his hand. He knew that if he tried to open his mouth, to say anything, it wouldn’t do any good to the wave inside him, threatening him all the time. He knew that he’d be crying, finally letting out everything he had buried and he wouldn’t be able to stop. So he did the only thing he could; he took Draco’s hand in his and squeezed.

“Don’t do that.”

“Isn’t that what you did in the courtroom earlier?” Harry said. “Because you saw that I needed you?”

“I don’t need you. Take off your hand, anyone could see us.”

Harry obeyed, hurt.

“Do you know why you’re attracted to me, Harry?” Draco asked, eyes planted in his. “It’s because you feel like I’m the only one who gets it. And you’re right, this war fucked me up too. And yes, I get it, Harry. But you’ll get better and one morning you’ll think that _this_ isn’t the life you want.”

“You don’t know anything about the life I want.”

“You think so?” Draco laughed. “So close your eyes and picture yourself in ten or twenty years. Do you see me? Only me? Would you give up the family you’ve always wanted?”

“You could be my family.”

Draco burst out laughing. “Of course,” he said, hitting his forehead. “Silly me.”

Draco huffed loudly. He was nervously tapping on the table with his fingers as if the only thing he wanted was to get away from this place. From Harry. So he finished his fries in silence.

“Can I say something really dumb?” Harry asked when he was finished.

“Isn’t that what you’re already doing?”

Harry ignored him. “I think there’s something between us. Something important and real. Because when you’re not there, the cold…” He raised his hand to stop Draco from interrupting. “I know what you think. Hermione thinks that too. You say it’s in my head. But I know it’s more than some post traumatic disorder of something like that. Voldemort’s soul was locked on mine for almost seventeen years. And I ripped it off. Maybe my soul just can’t live on its own now…”

Draco’s eyes were stuck on him now. They seemed so clear in the semi-darkness of the Three Broomsticks.

“You’re completely mad, you know,” he articulated. He stepped away from his chair, got up and threw a few coins on the table. “I’m out of here.”

Harry got up as well and ran after him. He caught up outside the Three Broomsticks in the middle of Hogsmeade.

“That’s right, run away, Draco!” Harry yelled. “That’s the only thing you know how to do anyway!”

Draco turned around and grabbed Harry by the hem of his jacket.

“Of course I’m running!” he screamed, shaking Harry lightly. “I’m running away from your insanity, Potter! Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“It was just an idea.”

“Well, keep it to yourself! Or find another one!”

“Another one?” Harry said while getting away from Draco’s hold, furious. “Maybe I just LOVE YOU!”

Harry had screamed these last words. Without even noticing. And it seemed they wouldn’t stop echoing in Hogsmeade, carried away by the wind. Draco froze, mouth half-open, eyes frozen in surprise.

“Is that better?”

“Why do you have to make everything so complicated, Harry? Why can’t we just…”

“Be friends?” Harry added with a joyless laugh. “I don’t want to be your friend! I can’t! Hasn’t the war taught you anything, Draco? Anything at all? I don’t want to lose time being scared again. I want to live. Don’t you get it? And I want to be with you. But I can see you don’t believe me. You don’t even trust me. Do you really think I could do that? Wake up one morning and go find Ginny? The truth is, you’re terrified of losing me. And you prefer not living rather than risk getting hurt. Well you know what? If you try to protect yourself all the time like this, you’re going to end up alone, Draco.”

Harry threw his arms in the air. He would probably seem utterly mad to anyone who would see him.

“What do you want, Draco? A proof? Do you want me to tell my friends? To tell the whole school? To yell it again? To say it in my speech? I want to be with you.”

Draco hadn’t moved. And Harry was getting closer and closer, eyes flaming. He placed his hand on Draco’s chest, felt it rising rapidly.

“I want to be with you.”

Draco bit his lips. He seemed to be struggling. Against Harry? Himself?

“And I want you to leave me alone.”

Harry let his arms fall. Defeated. “I give up.”

His eyes burned as if someone had thrown acid in them. But he couldn’t cry. Not now, not in front of him. So he turned around, head bent.

“Harry…”

Draco’s voice behind him. Sad. Painful. But Harry didn’t turn. It was over. He had fought enough, humiliated himself enough. He was done. He had done Draco one last favour that day, freeing his mother. But there wouldn’t be any more now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I published a new chapter today so that I can keep posting on Fridays because it works much better for me now that I’ve started school again. Next chapter, the ball!  
> Thank you again and again for all the kudos, comments and bookmarks, I’m so glad you like this story and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well! If you have any question: casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com


	15. On the edge

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes after staring at himself in the mirror for too long. His face was marked by weariness and exhaustion. He breathed in deeply and watched as his reflexion did the same. It was him and yet, he didn’t recognise himself. White shirt and black robe, green tie, hair desperately unruly. He could have looked nice if only there weren’t dark circles around his eyes and a distinct pallor on his face that people associated with sickness. But he didn’t care whether he looked handsome or not. Ordinary or not. What was the point? Draco certainly wouldn’t care.

 _Don’t think about it,_ he thought as he closed his eyes _. Don’t think about it and everything will be alright._

He had been doing that for three weeks now. He was floating above his life and wasn’t trying to get involved in things. And it was much easier this way. He joked, laughed, went to class, played Quidditch, tried to fill the void inside him so that no one would worry about him.

But at night, it was much harder to ignore the cracks of his shell, the cold slipping under his skin. Draco’s face was in every nightmare he had. His voice was whispering in his ear, repeating endlessly the words “I want you to leave me alone.”

Three weeks without a word, without a glance. Of course, Draco had tried to talk to him clumsily. They still shared the same table in Slughorn’s class. And it was horrifying and absolutely embarrassing. Harry pretended he didn’t ear and waited for Draco to give up and work silently because every time he tried to say something, Harry remembered yelling at him, telling him that he loved him. And he remembered how Draco had violently destroyed everything when he told him to fuck off.

The dorm’s door creaked and startled Harry. Hermione pushed her head through the half-opened door.

“Harry, are you decent?” she asked.

Harry said yes and heard her heels clattering on the floor as she approached. She stopped in front of him and frowned when she saw his tie’s knot. She corrected it and smoothed his shirt’s collar.

“You look very elegant,” she said, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder and pressing it lightly. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I’m fine, Hermione. You know how much I like dancing. Everyone knows I’m an exceptional dancer, the best in all of Hogwarts actually.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “And what about the speech?”

He patted the right pocket of his robes.

“Want me to take a look at it?”

“I didn’t write anything inappropriate, no worries, okay?”

“You know,” Hermione added, “I wrote one myself, just in case…”

“Hermione, it’s fine.”

He saw his friend’s eyes fill with tears but she quickly wiped them.

“Of course it is, I just worry a lot,” she said as she snorted loudly. “Ever since the trial you’ve been… odd. You lost weight and you don’t look okay. And I see that you try to hide it but I know you, Harry.”

Harry sometimes wished that Hermione was less smart.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, looking right at her. “It wasn’t easy, that’s all. You know they asked nasty questions during the trial but that’s all. It’ll be okay. Now, stop crying, you’re ruining your make-up. It’s a shame because you really look nice tonight.”

“Why do you have to say things like that?” she asked while wiping her eyes again. “I’m crying again now.”

Harry laughed and without even thinking about it, he hugged her awkwardly. A flowery perfume invaded his senses and he felt slightly better.

“I predict that you’re going to be very happy, Harry,” she whispered in his ear, “you’ll see.”

Harry didn’t quite believe her: “Well, you always used to say that divination was such a…”

“…waste of time and energy, I know,” she finished, “but it’s not a prediction, Harry. It’s a promise.”

A sudden movement in the dorm and someone clearing their throat made them stop hugging and turn around.

Ron was watching them from the bathroom, disgruntled. He was wearing blue robes a bit too long for him that probably belonged to one of his brothers, like most things he owned. His eyes were watching Harry and then coming back to Hermione over and over as if he wanted to understand something.

He looked jealous and angry. He wasn’t imagining that Hermione and Harry were more than friends again, was he?

“You know that’s my girlfriend you were holding in your arms, right, Harry?” Ron asked with a false detachment in his voice.

Harry put a hand over his forehead, faking shock. “What? I didn’t notice!”

Shaking his head, he headed towards the common room and waited for them.

“Are you sure you want to go alone, Harry? I’m sure there’s still plenty of girls who’ll gladly go with you.”

“Yeah, right,” Ron said, “the only ones left are ugly.”

Hermione slapped him lightly on the arm. “Ron! Harry doesn’t care about that!”

“I’m going alone, it’s fine.”

Harry couldn’t go with anyone, couldn’t pretend to be interested in them when all he could think about was Draco. It wouldn’t be fair to his date.

* * *

The Great Hall was unrecognizable. The four long wooden tables had vanished and instead was a giant dance floor. The candles were gone too, replaced by grey spheres which illuminated the room brightly.

Harry sat down alone at a table, far away from the chatter and the dancing couples. But he was fine with it. He preferred watching Ron and Hermione laughing and twisting together. They looked nice together, so happy and cheerful. He also watched Draco from the corner of his eyes as discreetly as he could manage. In stunning grey robes, he seemed to have fun, face relaxed and smiling, Pansy Parkinson attached to his arm.

Draco caught him staring once and held up his gaze for a few seconds. Nicely done for the discretion, Harry thought. Draco whispered a few words at Pansy’s ear and walked away from his group of friends, moving towards Harry.

“Butterbeer?” he asked, eyeing Harry’s glass. “Is that it, Potter?”

Harry tensed and stared at the wall in front of him.

“Oh, that’s right, you don’t speak to me anymore,” Draco said as he sat down next to him and straightened the collar of his robes. “Are you planning to do that for long?”

Harry turned his head and frowned. “I just don’t want to talk to you. Or even look at you. Don’t pretend you don’t know why!”

“It’s because I hurt you.”

Harry didn’t answer and drank the rest of his Butterbeer.

 _Hurt_ him, that was hardly it. He should have said something like crushed, broken and humiliated. And even that didn’t seem to be strong enough to describe what he felt like.

“Why aren’t you having fun?” Draco asked.

“Because there’s no actual alcohol in Butterbeers?”

“I can fix that,” Draco said with a sly smile. “Just don’t move, alright?”

He disappeared into the crowd of students and came back a few minutes later, a glass in each hand. He gave one to Harry who smelled it suspiciously and detected a hint of Firewhisky. He didn’t ask where he managed to find it and swallowed it in one gulp. It burned his throat and then fire was all he could taste.

“Wow!” Harry said, coughing in his glass. “Well, that’s it, I’m drunk.”

Draco smiled. “Drink another one. We’ll talk about being drunk then.”

It was odd. Odd and scary, the way that alcohol could numb all of his suffering, absorb the cold and soothe his wounds. He didn’t think he liked it at all. He liked keeping his neurosis, as Draco called it, under control. What would happen if he lowered his guard? Would it all come back in the morning, stronger than ever?

In a dark mood, he finished his second drink, swearing to himself that it would be the last one he drank. But it was too late. Already, there was a strange fog in his mind. His face was burning up, he felt a bit feverish.

“Alcohol has a strange effect on you, Potter,” Draco said while biting his lip. “You look even more depressed than before.”

“And whose fault is that?”

“Mine, I suppose,” Draco answered calmly. “Yet again. Because I’m a selfish git and a coward.”

“That’s a very accurate summary!” Harry said, impressed. “You’ve got an excellent analytical mind, we can all agree on that. Too bad it has absolutely nothing to do with how to be happy!”

That was the moment Ginny chose to appear in front of them. She was wearing a black dress and her long red hair was tied. “Will you dance with me, Harry?” she asked.

He hesitated for a few seconds. But Draco’s unsettled and tense expression was enough to make him agree. He took Ginny’s hand and let her drag him to the dance floor. The music was slow and the couples around them were already entwined, rocking softly. He recognized Neville and Luna, Seamus and some Hufflepuff girl he didn’t know, Hermione and Ron. Ginny laced her arms around Harry’s neck.

“I thought it was time someone saved you from the mean Slytherin,” she said with a small laugh, very close to his ear.

“Oh, you know, it’s not like that anymore,” Harry smiled.

“Oh really,” she wondered, “no more insults about your dead parents and my poor ones? My red hair? Ron’s freckles and Hermione being a Muggleborn? What have I forgotten?”

“My scar.”

“And your glasses!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that! You see, everything goes away. Even Malfoy’s stupidity.”

She laughed against him. She was so small in his arms, and soft, and she smelled nice. It wasn’t so bad.

But then, he looked up. All these thoughts disappeared the moment he saw that grey eyes were following him as he danced, piercing him. There was something deeply violent and disturbing in them. It was _jealousy_ , pure and blazing.

Harry kept dancing with Ginny but his heart wasn’t in it anymore and his eyes didn’t leave Draco’s. It was as if they were dancing together now. Eyes, when they meet, can tell much more than words.

“I missed you so much,” Ginny whispered, snuggling closer to Harry.

Harry wanted to say the same words. To Draco. _I miss you. I can’t do it, not without you. How do you manage? How do you get up in the morning?_

The slow music was over so Harry stopped moving, breathless because of the intense moment he had just shared with Draco and because of what it implied. The alcohol didn’t make it any easier on him. He wasn’t dancing anymore but the walls around him kept moving. Ginny, on her tiptoes, got dangerously close to Harry’s face and tried to kiss him.

“Gin,” he whispered, pushing her back.

Her smile disappeared. “It’s fine, Harry, I get it. No need to apologise, you’re still not ready. And a dance isn’t going to change that. It’s me, Harry, I was stupid enough to believe that there could be something between us. It was stupid.”

And she let him go and disappeared in the crowd. The next second, Draco was by his side, a new glass in his hand.

“Am I wrong, Potter, or do you need this?” he asked.

Harry took the drink from his hands and swallowed it entirely.

 _Bad idea_ , he thought right away. Because on the scene with all the musicians, in front of the entire school, McGonagall was asking him to join her. It was time for his speech.

* * *

Harry knew that there were dozens of curious faces staring at him from the dance floor, blinking stupidly. There also were dresses of all shapes and elegant robes, bright jewelry and colorful ties that hurt his eyes. His head was spinning, his mind racing and his mouth dry.

“Oh!” he said with a slow voice he barely recognized. “From here you look very elegant but shit, you’re wearing so many different colors, I think it hurts my eyes!”

There was laughter and a little disapproving noise from McGonagall.

“Sorry, Professor. So, I’ve been ask to say a few words, so… Er, so, here it goes… I wrote a speech, I just need to find it, hold on! Promise, I’ll make it quick ‘cause I know you all want to go back to dancing and partying and whatever you guys do. And I just really want to go back to the bar even though I’m a little bit drunk already. In which pocket did I put it again? Oh right there.”

He unfolded the tiny piece of parchment with difficulty, failing several times and then cleared his throat. Hermione had covered her eyes with her hand. Ron, Seamus and Dean were laughing and, close to the scene, Draco was smiling at him knowingly. Harry cursed him for making him drink and then cursed himself for writing so badly. He couldn’t even decipher what he wrote. The words seemed to move and it made him slightly ill.

“Er, well,” he started with a sigh as he threw the parchment over his shoulder, “if I read this I’m going to throw up on you and that’d be a little bit embarrassing. I’ll just improvise something, apparently I do that quite well.” He paused. “Or not, I don’t really know,” he added, scratching the top of his head.

Everyone laughed again.

“The war. The bloody war… That was rubbish, that’s what it was. I know you all lost someone you cared about. I know you don’t want to think about it any more than I do. So maybe I should just shut up. Except that wasn’t what I was asked to do.

Sometimes, I barely feel alive but I guess it’s all the same for you guys. No? I don’t even know. How’re you supposed to feel after a war? What’s normal? I don’t know shit about that. I don’t even know why I should talk to you, me of all people. I killed Voldemort. Yeah, I know, one less maniac on this Earth but it’s not like I had a choice anyway. Someone had to do it. But _shit_ , I got a lot of help. By the way, I hope you all have friends like mine because I don’t know what I would have done without them.”

He saw Hermione hiding her tears against Ron’s shoulder. He had lost his smile as well now.

“We all sacrificed something in this war. We all gave up a part of ourselves. But that’s over now. Over. We earned the right to be carefree again and stupid and happy. Today, I just want to be a normal guy who drank too much. I want you to go back to your dorms thinking: “shit, have you seen how Potter messed up his speech?” I want you, Professor, to give me a detention because I can’t stop saying shit and because yes, I messed up my speech and yes, I drank too much. Actually, I want… Plenty of things. Plenty. And I guess that’s rather a good thing because it means I’m healing. Even if it takes time. Even if we won’t forget what happened here, what we’ve been through. I’ve often been told that the dead never really leave us. We keep them with us, all the time. And tonight, that’s exactly what I want to say.”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second to escape, isolate himself from the faces streaked with tears staring at him. When he opened them again, he saw that a hand had risen. Harry recognized Dennis Creevey’s blond hair.

“I’d like to say something, Harry, if that’s okay.”

Harry nodded, inviting Dennis to start speaking.

“Colin was killed during the battle,” he started with difficulty. “My brother, who thought of you as a hero, fought for what was right, of course, but he also fought for you, Harry. No one questions your heroism. We all know what you’ve done for us. But despite everything, I was wondering what was kind of consideration you gave to my brother and to all of those who died during the war?”

Harry frowned. “All the consideration they deserve, Dennis, of course.”

“And so, you really think that freeing a Death Eater’s wife is… honoring their memories?”

A buzz rose in the Hall. Surprise, protests and a few people clapped their hands. Dennis visibly wasn’t the only one who thought so.

“As you’ve probably read in the papers,” Harry retorted, “if Narcissa Malfoy was cleared of all charges, it’s because she saved my life and never killed anyone.”

“And soon, you’ll say that it’s okay to let her son walk in the castle as if he never murdered Dumbledore… Oh, but wait, that’s exactly what he’s doing right now! It even looks like he became your friend!”

All heads turned to Draco in one movement. Harry had never seen his face so closed, so empty. He felt a terrible rage boiling and invading him. Dennis’ friends were trying to make him stop talking, hitting him with their elbows but Dennis kept staring at Harry, an odd smile on his lips.

“Draco didn’t kill Dumbledore.”

“Really? But who allowed the Death Eaters to enter the school that night?”

“You little shit!” Harry roared, hands trembling. “You don’t know anything about what happened that night! Dumbledore was ill. Condemned.”

McGonagall rushed to the scene, interrupting their argument. Harry was still livid with rage.

“Thank you, Potter, for this moving and… spectacular speech,” McGonagall said, pressing lightly on Harry’s shoulder to guide him off the scene. “As you so kindly suggested, I think detention is in order. May I remind you that alcohol is strictly forbidden in the school! Those of you who are currently drinking unauthorized beverages must throw their glasses’ content right away. Otherwise, Mr Filch will deal with you. And for you, Mr Creevey, you should now that Mr Malfoy was reintegrated with the Ministry’s approval. And mine. Your accusations are extremely ill-advised. That being said, I think it’s time to resume your previous activities.”

She waved her wand and the music started again, covering the embarrassed silence. Harry jumped off the scene and, searching through the crowd, managed to find Creevey to drag him away from the Great Hall.

“Don’t tell me it was you, Dennis?” he asked dangerously.

“What?”

“Draco… The lake?”

Dennis grinned. “And what would you do if I tell you it was me?”

“He almost died!”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Dennis laughed, “I wouldn’t have left him to die. I hid behind a bush when you came. I just wanted to give him a scare, that’s all…”

“What were you thinking, Dennis? You think Colin would’ve liked this? Draco didn’t kill him, just like he didn’t kill Dumbledore! I can’t even believe you did something like this and then questioned my loyalty to the dead in front of the whole school when you… you… Damn it, you should be ashamed of what you did.”

Dennis’ entire body was now shaking. Losing his spite, he let himself fall down the wall and hid his face in his knees.

“He died… He died, Harry, and I can’t… I’m so angry…”

Harry sighed, weary. “I know, Dennis, I know.”

“I wouldn’t have killed Malfoy, Harry. I swear it’s true. It’s just… I needed to do something. And I thought that it wasn’t fair, that he was there when Colin is buried and when my mum can’t even get up in the morning…” He stared at Harry, eyes wet with tears. “Will you turn me in?”

Harry shook his head and sighed again. “Go find your friends, Dennis.”

“Do your really believe that?” he whispered as he got up, without daring to look directly at Harry. “That the dead never really leave us?”

“Of course,” Harry answered with all the conviction he could manage to find.

He stared at Dennis as he walked away, something heavy in his chest. The moment he was alone, he got out and sat outside in the fresh air. He felt used and lost. Now more than ever, he felt the loneliness and the absence and the void inside him. He had lied to them. Harry thought his dead relatives had left him a long time ago. Where were they now that he needed them?

Harry felt sick and ran towards a tree. Behind it, he retched and threw up again and again until his throat hurt.

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. _Not Ginny_ , he thought, _please, not Ginny_.

And for once, his wish was heard and granted. It was Draco helping him sit down, pushing the wild strays of hair from his forehead, wiping the tears under his eyes.

“I’m crying,” Harry whispered, surprised.

“Everyone cries when they throw up. Sorry, Harry, but it doesn’t count.”

“Too bad. Healer Johnson would have been happy.”

But the tears kept coming and Harry wasn’t throwing up anymore. He couldn’t see anything, it was too blurry. His throat hurt as if there was something scratching at it, a sound, a scream, he didn’t know. But it was coming up and up and up.

Harry didn’t want it to come out, he wanted everything inside where it was well-hidden but there was nothing to do, it _wanted_ to come out. A sound came to his ears. Was it him, sobbing so violently?

Draco caught him and locked him in his arms. Harry tried to fight back, he thought he didn’t need comfort.

“Go away, Draco,” he screamed, pushing him away, “Please, go away, go away…”

 _I don’t want you to see me like this,_ he thought desperately. _With red eyes and tears everywhere. I can’t stop sobbing and crying. What do I look like, Draco? How could you love someone so messed up?_

“Shut up,” Draco answered, putting his hands on Harry’s cheeks just like he had done in the train. He lifted his face, forcing him to look up. “I’m not leaving you. And you don’t get a say in this. You hear me? Not. Leaving.”

So Harry stopped talking. He let himself be held and rocked in Draco’s arms. He felt fingers in his hair, lips on his temple, his forehead, his scar.

“Let them out,” Draco whispered softly. Harry obeyed.

“I’m here, I’m not leaving,” Draco added, taking Harry in his arms even more firmly.

And Harry believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ball, at last! Important things happened to Harry, he can finally try to move on now. Thank you again for the kudos and comments, I love hearing what you thought about the chapter especially if it was an angsty one ;)  
> As always, find me on Tumblr: casknowsaboutwizards.com


	16. The Confession

Harry woke up in an empty and quiet dorm. The pale light of day was barely filtering through the heavy curtains of his bed. His head hurt and blurry memories of the previous evening started to come back to him. He remembered his mortifying speech in front of the whole school, shouting at Dennis, crying on Draco’s brand new suit. But how in the name of Merlin had he managed to get back here?

He showered and got dressed, eyes half-closed and struggling against his nausea and sleepiness. He arrived at the Great Hall where his friends were still eating breakfast while talking and laughing. Yesterday’s ball was in everyone’s conversations, people talked about that girl’s ugly dress, that boy who got dumped in the middle of a dance.  _And me?_ Harry thought as he approached his friends. _Am I on today’s gossip list?_

Apparently not. As he sat down next to his friends, he was welcomed by whistles and a few claps.

“Nice speech!” Ron said, grinning.

“Nice dancing skills!” Dean added.

 _Dancing skills? What have I done?_ Harry thought right away, horrified as their entire table laughed - except for Hermione, captivated by her History of Magic book.

“Want some eggs?” Seamus enquired, putting a steaming plate under Harry’s nose. “Bacon, porridge, toasts?”

Harry covered his mouth and shook his head. “Do you really want me to throw up on you, Seamus?”

“Where did you manage to get Firewhisky last night, Harry?” Dean asked, looking impressed.

“Er,” Harry started, uncomfortable and scratching the top of his head, “I don’t really remember. Malfoy, I think. Maybe.”

There was immediately a long silence. Harry saw his friends exchanging a few tense glances, hands frozen over their toasts and drinks. That didn’t sound good at all.

“Is it true? What Dennis said last night?”

“I was under the impression that he said a lot of bullshit last night so you’ll have to be a little more precise, Neville,” Harry answered while massaging his aching head.

“You’re not… friends… with Malfoy, right?” Neville asked carefully.

“No!” Harry said, perhaps too quickly. “Well, we talk sometimes but don’t be absurd. We’re not friends.”

He forced himself to laugh without being very convincing and poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice.

“You guys seemed awfully close this summer in Guernsey though,” Zachariah Smith said from behind him.

Harry spat the juice he was about to swallow on his shirt.

“What?” Ron said, eyes staring incredulously at Smith who seemed very proud of the bomb he just dropped.

“Oh shit, was that a secret?” he said, falsely sorry. “Susan and I tried to say hi to you when we were on the beach, Harry, but you seemed rather focused on something else…”

He laughed and walked away to the Hufflepuff table, followed by his friends who were asking him thousands of questions.

“You said you were going alone!”

“I did go alone,” Harry lied, his cheeks bright red, “we just met there - briefly.”

“That’s not what he was insinuating!”

“Since when do you listen to Zachariah Smith, Ron? You hate that wanker!”

“And what about you? Aren’t you supposed to hate Malfoy?”

Harry shrugged, face closed.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking?” Ron continued. “What did you tell yourself? Oh, what if I just spent my holiday with a Death Eater!”

“Ron,” Hermione interrupted softly, putting a soothing hand on his arm, “Harry must’ve had his reasons.”

“What reasons?” Ron yelled. “We’re talking about Malfoy! His father almost killed Ginny, got Hagrid fired and executed Buck! Surely you remember that, don’t you, Harry? And what about the Department of Mysteries? Your great friend, breaking your nose, poisoning me? Oh and he was the one who brought the Death Eaters in Hogwarts the night Dumbledore was murdered. And during an entire year, while we were trying so goddamn hard not to die, he was sharing his home with _VOLDEMORT_!”

“Where he was trying so goddamn hard not to die himself!” Harry yelled back.

Ron stared at him as if he had been talking to a stranger. “You’re defending him…” He didn’t seem to believe it. “That’s too much, Harry! What, you think I’m stupid? That I can’t see you behaved like a prick to my sister? That I don’t know what you told her? I need time to be alone during my holiday, that’s what you said. And what do I hear? You spent your holiday with _Malfoy_? I must’ve become mad.”

Suddenly, Ron’s eyes became wide with surprise as if he just understood something. “You’re lying!” he said, hitting the table with his closed fist. “This summer, when you received your train ticket, you all laughed at me but I was right, it was Malfoy’s owl! And the truth is, you didn’t meet there, you left together.”

Harry bit his lip and looked away. It was enough of a confession for Ron.

“I can’t even believe it,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

He got up, took a piece of bread and threw it right at Draco’s head who was sitting down at the Slytherin table, eating breakfast while reading a book.

“Hey, Malfoy!” Ron called, drawing the entire Hall’s attention.

Draco rubbed his neck, puzzled and frowned at him.

“Want to become his new best friend?” Ron asked, pointing at Harry. “Yes? No? Because it’s now or never. My spot’s available.”

And on these words, he rushed out of the Great Hall, furious. First hesitating, Seamus, Dean and Neville joined him. There was now only Hermione next to Harry.

“You’re sure you don’t want to go as well?” Harry muttered while crushing his toast his with knife. She shook her head. “It’s more complicated than it looks.” Harry added.

“I know, Harry.”

“We just met at Healer Johnson’s office,” he explained, “he used to go the same day as I did, we went to a coffee shop and I gave him his wand back. We met again the next week and then the next one and when she suggested I take a holiday, she had obviously said the same thing to him. It seemed almost natural to leave together even though he still sort of made the choice for me. But he’s not like I thought he’d be… He’s… It’s just, he’s different now…”

Hermione closed her book and bit her lip. “I believe you. And I’m not asking for any explanation.”

“Why?” Harry asked, surprised. “You don’t even look shocked.”

“If I’m not surprised, it’s because Malfoy came to get me last night. After your speech. You… You weren’t well. And he couldn’t access the dormitories to bring you back himself so he needed to find a Gryffindor. He even seemed _worried_ which was odd. He didn’t make a single joke, he didn’t laugh even though you were really out of it and he could’ve taken advantage. He would have done so without hesitating before. So you see, it’s enough for me. To give him a second chance.”

Harry was staring at Hermione as if she were the wisest person on Earth. He wanted to hug her but instead he said: “If only you could give maturity classes to Ron.”

“Working on it but with Ron, it’s difficult.”

She laughed, got up and pressed his shoulder lightly. “I’ll try to make him come to his senses but you know how he is. Almost as stubborn as you are.”

She had barely left when Draco sat down on the bench next to him.

“What’s the matter with the Weasel? What was all that about?”

“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Harry said.

He sighed. _Here it is_ , he thought. _Ron doesn’t even know half of what’s going on between me and Draco and he’s already not speaking to me anymore._ He tried to picture Ron’s face if he knew the rest and frowned. It wouldn’t be pretty.

“Tell me,” Draco said, interrupting his thoughts, “do you still want to try my broom?” He didn’t wait for Harry’s answer and added with a sly smile, pointing to his crotch: “No, Harry, not that broom. The other one.”

“Moron,” Harry whispered even though he couldn’t hide his smile.

* * *

Harry’s mood was as terrible as it could get but he had to admit that the weather was fine for a flight. The sky was clear and the autumnal wind still soft for the season. He wanted to say no, I don’t feel like flying, I just lost my best friend, I just want to wallow in self pity. But the truth was, he also wanted to be with Draco. So he said yes.

Draco went back to his dorm and then joined Harry on the pitch, his brand new broom on his shoulder. He stopped in front of him and gave him the broom, deadly serious.

“One scratch, even a tiny one, and you’re dead,” he threatened.

“Who do you think I am? An amateur?”

He jumped on the broom without letting Draco warn him again. He gave a kick and flew in the air instantly. The speed was astonishing, almost as dizzying as the Firewhisky he had drank last night. From up there, he could easily forget everything. Ron’s white face, his fist hitting the table. His friends’ silence as they left him. There was only him and the speed now, him and the adrenaline pulsing through his veins at every turn. Here, he didn’t need to pretend to be someone he wasn’t. He realised he wasn’t even hung over anymore.

“Let go of the Snitch!” Harry yelled at Draco who looked slightly amused.

Bent forward, hands gripping the broom highly, Harry followed the Snitch in front of him. He pushed the broom farther, driving it to its limits. Holding back a triumphant shout, he caught the golden Snitch almost effortlessly. Draco was right, this broom was a true marvel. Powerful and instinctive.

He let go of the Snitch and waited till it flew out of his sight. Then, he tried out dangerous moves. Reckless ones even. But he didn’t care. During a looping, he managed to locate the Snitch again and raced towards its location. He headed down so fast he thought he was going to crash into the grass but at the last moment, he brushed against the mud and caught it again, avoiding the crash. He landed gracefully on the pitch, out of breath.

“That was amazing!” he said, very proud of himself.

“You’re completely mad, Potter!” Draco yelled as he ran towards him.

Furious, he took the broom out of his hands. He was white as a sheet.

“Well what?”

Harry, with his cheeks bright pink and unruly hair because of the wind, was smiling like a fool. Draco, on the other hand, was carefully examining his broom.

“What was that? Another suicidal moment?”

“You’re making it sound way more dramatic than it actually was,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh yeah? You’re out of your mind! A nice looping here, a Wronski Feint here… You almost killed yourself! Worse, you almost broke _it_!”

Draco was waving his broom under Harry’s nose but it just made him want to laugh. “Didn’t I tell you to be careful?”

“You know that if you’re not careful yourself, I might believe you’re actually worried about me,” Harry said.

“I’m not worried about you!” Draco answered, outraged. “You can break anything you want, I don’t care. The functioning of all your members is the least of my concerns. Got it? If I had to make a list of all my current preoccupations, you wouldn’t even be on it!”

Harry was now laughing without trying to stop. He couldn’t believe his lie for a second so, annoyed, Draco groaned and sat down in the bleachers with his broom on his knees. He looked like a sulky five-year-old. Harry joined him, still smiling and sat down next to him. He took off his gloves.

“Did I dance last night, after crying all over you?”

“Yeah, with McGonagall and if you want my opinion, it was quite indecent.”

“Draco, did I really make a fool of myself in front of the entire school?”

“You mean, even more than when you spoke? I was wondering about that, actually. Was it prepared or was it just drunk rambling? By the way, you really shouldn’t drink, Harry.”

“I know, it was just the alcohol speaking,” Harry said with a sigh.

A small smile formed on Draco’s lips. “If it can make you feel better, your speech wasn’t so bad. And your friends are messing with you, you didn’t dance with anyone. When you stopped ruining my suit, I started looking for Granger and then we brought you back to the dorm directly. Well, almost…”

“Almost?”

Draco winced. “You stopped once or twice to throw up…”

Harry didn’t remember any of this. Not even Hermione’s presence. His memories had stopped at the moment when he cried in Draco’s arms.

“Thank you for staying. You didn’t have to.”

“I know. You kept asking me to go away.”

Harry sighed, eyes lost in the horizon. “Every time you and I have a fight, we end up coming back to each other. And every time I swear I’ll never speak to you again, I break that promise.”

“You weren’t okay last night…”

Draco was nervously wiping his hands on his trousers and couldn’t look at Harry.

“I thought you didn’t care about my health. That I wasn’t even on your list of preoccupations.”

“And you believe everything I tell you?”

Harry frowned. “So, the other day, when you told me you wanted me to leave you alone… Should I believe you?”

Draco shrugged but didn’t answer. Something swelled in Harry’s chest, he thought someone must have injected oxygen in his lungs. It sounded like hope.

And it was dangerous, he knew that. It was dangerous to let him come back but it was all he had been waiting for these past weeks. A sign from Draco. Even the smallest one.

“You know, we’re just two in my dorm,” Draco said suddenly, “me and Zabini. Crabbe’s dead. Goyle and Nott didn’t come back. And you see, Zabini and I get along but we’ve never been close. That guy is incredibly arrogant. Yes, I know what you’re going to say, I’m arrogant as well. But try to put _two_ people like me in the same dorm. It’s exhausting.”

Draco stared at his hands and stopped talking for a long moment. Harry simply waited patiently.

“And even the others… Crabbe, Goyle… They’ve never been my friends anyway, not in the way you define friendship. But I didn’t really care much for that before.”

Harry didn’t know where Draco was going with that but he still kept quiet.

“Before the war. Before you.”

Harry froze but Draco kept going: “You know… What’s scary, _really_ scary, is that the longer I stay with you, the more I realise what a piece of shit I used to be. I realise I spent seventeen years of my life acting like a moron. It’s like I’m in front of a mirror now and I keep staring at all the stupid things I ever did. And sometimes it gets a little too much and I can’t help myself, I hurt you, I push you away because I can’t stand what you remind me of. Do you get it?”

But he wasn’t looking at Harry nor waiting for him to answer. Now that he was finally talking, he just let the words out.

“And I can’t stop telling myself, one day he’ll remember, one morning I’m going to wake up and there’s going to be disgust everywhere in his eyes and it’ll be normal. And my dad is in prison and I get letters full of threats and insults every morning at breakfast, people steal my things and people try to drown me… In the middle of all this, you’re the only person I can talk to. Isn’t that ironic?”

He laughed with difficulty. “The problem is, you’re _too_ much, Harry. All the time. You want me to make giant steps but I can’t do that. I can’t. Sometimes I can’t even put one feet in front of the other.”

“Draco…”

Draco turned his head towards Harry abruptly as if he had forgotten he was even there. His eyes were full of despair. Harry, still stunned by Draco’s confession, let his hand wander on his arm, tried to make him feel better. Draco was watching it as if he both feared it and desired it at the same time. There was conflict in his eyes, he didn’t seem to know whether he wanted Harry to leave him alone or comfort him.

“I’m the one who’s gay,” he whispered, “and since the beginning! Why aren’t you scared?”

Harry smiled and, with his head slightly bent, he put his fingers on Draco’s cheek and let them slide on his face all the way to his neck. Harry saw tiny drops of water in the grey eyes in front of him. He wanted to kiss them away but he didn’t dare yet.

“You do know that us Gryffindors are a bit stupid and reckless,” Draco smiled a bit and Harry added, repeating the words he needed to hear last night: “I’m there and I’m not going anywhere. You don’t need to be a giant anymore, I’m right there and I’m not leaving.”

They stayed like that during long minutes, both lost in their thoughts.

“Do you realise the first game is in one month?” Draco suddenly said, tapping his leg as if they didn’t had an incredibly intimate conversation. “I hope you know that you have absolutely no chance against us.”

“Yeah, right,” Harry retorted, laughing.

They got up as one and Harry stretched his arms.

“I feel like taking a walk,” Draco said, eying the lake, “coming with me?”

They headed towards the lake together so that their strange morning wouldn’t end right away. They could only hear the sound of their footsteps in the mud and the lapping of the water.

Draco was watching him sometimes, quickly looking away when he noticed Harry staring back. His fingers were fidgety against his leg, then replaced a lock of hair or brushed his shirt. Harry wondered why he acted like that. And then, in the middle of a narrow path, he felt Draco’s hand taking his, firmly intertwining their fingers. He jumped a bit, surprised, but Draco kept walking, face turned towards October’s sun, still holding hands with him.

And Harry understood everything. He understood that he needed to give Draco some space because he had his own ghosts, insomnias, nightmares and scars. And even stronger solitudes.

He couldn’t just tell him he loved him, couldn’t kiss him and give him all his trust. But walk with him, hand in hand near the lake, that he could do. It was a step. The first one is always the most important. Harry knew he just had to give Draco time to conquer his fears and everything would be fine. They would help each other and lick each other’s wounds until they closed and faded if they had to. He knew they’ll be alright because they were together.

Looking away to hide his smile, he squeezed Draco’s hand back. Just that.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of his day in the library, disappearing behind rows of books assembled in front of him. He had spent hours there but hadn’t learned anything.

His research didn’t have much in common with the amount homework he had yet to do. No, his research was about everything that was happening inside his body and that he couldn’t quite understand. He was getting worried about it because it seemed that day after day, the cold was getting worse. He could wear as many layers of clothes as he wanted, it didn’t make it go away. The cold wasn’t coming from outside, it was radiating _from_ him.

Annoyed, Harry sighed. Bloody hell, what was he supposed to ask Madam Pince?

“Do you have a book about a person, involuntarily turned into a Horcrux, who allowed himself to be murdered in order to destroy said Horcrux but survived? No? What a surprise! But do you think there could be side effects?”

Actually, the more he thought about it, the more Harry realised there should be side effects. It was not a simple Stunning Spell he had been the target of, it was the Killing Curse. And twice.

At 7 PM, frustrated and exhausted, he borrowed a pile of books he couldn’t even fit in his schoolbag and left the library to eat dinner.

In the Great Hall, he headed towards the Gryffindor table hesitantly. Hermione smiled at him but Ron, sat between Neville and Seamus, stared at his plate and didn’t look up. So Harry sat alone, away from them. He took one of his book out and started eating while reading it. Until someone settled next to him.

Harry stared at Draco in disbelief.

“What?” Draco asked while pouring himself a glass of water. “Never seen a Slytherin at the Gryffindor table? No? Oh, look, your friends are watching us!”

Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean and Ginny were all watching them, gobsmacked. Draco waved at them, grinning wildly. Ron answered him with a single finger raised at him but Draco, far from being offended, simply laughed.

“How can you even stand him?” Draco asked. “What are you reading?”

“Oh that… That’s just for… a project…”

“Does it have anything to do with your transformation into an iceberg?”

Harry put down his fork. “How do you even know? You sound just like Hermione.”

“Are you really worried about it?”

“That you sound like Hermione?”

Draco rolled his eyes and Harry, who had understood the question, nodded.

“Well, if we say that this isn’t happening in your brain… Is is related to the Horcrux or to the Killing Curse? Is your body, for whatever reason, reacting badly to either of these? Does it consider the Horcrux’s destruction a mutilation of some sort? What would happen if we don’t do anything? Loads of questions but not many answers… There’s only one thing to do.”

“What?”

“Go see McGonagall.”

“No way.”

“Then I’ll go to her.”

“You wouldn’t do that!” Harry protested, alarmed.

“No?” Draco retorted. “Well I can meddle with your business just like you messed with mine, Potter.”

And then he smiled wildly.

They took their time eating, flirting with ease, their hands brushing under the table. When the Great Hall was almost entirely empty, Draco, who seemed curiously willing to accompany Harry to his common room, walked with him in the long corridors of the castle. He lectured Harry because he hadn’t even started working on their Potion assignment. In his defense, he hadn’t started his Transfiguration or Herbology homework either. Draco seemed to be in a good mood.

In front of the Fat Lady’s portrait, Draco suddenly held Harry by his arm. He checked the right, then the left side of the hallway and when he was sure they were alone, he leant towards Harry and kissed him on the corner of his mouth very quickly. It was a very chaste and small kiss but Harry still felt himself getting lighter and happier.

For a few seconds, he had recognized that familiar sensation, Draco’s lips on his own, his smell, his nose pressed against Harry’s cheek. In the soft light of the burning torches on the wall, Draco was smiling, guessing what was going on in Harry’s head: a furious need of a real kiss, feeling their bodies together again, slip a hand under his clothes. Their eyes stayed locked the entire time.

“Ohhh!” The Fat Lady interrupted, visibly tenderized, “Being young and in love!”

“Draco,” Harry whispered, ignoring the portrait’s giggles.

But Draco shook his head. “Good night, Harry. Sleep well.”

And he turned around and disappeared. Harry wanted to scream out of frustration or bang his head against the wall or even take a very, very cold shower (Draco had that effect on him, especially after weeks with no touch whatsoever). Yet he was still smiling like an fool when he finally got back inside the Common Room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had the shittiest day ever today, it has been one of the worst in my life but thankfully this chapter allowed me to think of something else for a while. Thank you for all the love again, find me on Tumblr if you want to know where the story is headed for example: www.casknowsaboutwizards.com (I reblog a lot of Scorbus posts)  
> PS: next week, the rating will finally be of use!


	17. Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song I listened to while writing this chapter (especially during the explicit part): Run - Ludovico Einaudi.

The weather in Scotland was now definitely autumnal. Grey sky, cold mornings, windy days. It was gloomy. Harry was a bit like that as well, just as if there was a Dementor following him around.

Late at night, the hallways were chilly. Draco was walking beside him but he didn’t talk much. It was better this way because Harry was in a terrible mood. He had woken up like this and had been like that all day. He couldn’t stand Ron anymore. He couldn’t stand the other Gryffindors. He couldn’t stand Draco’s indecisions. Sometimes, he couldn’t even bear to feel his own frozen skin.

Ever since the ball, Harry spoke very little to the other Gryffindors. It was a neat cut. He ate with Draco all the time now and the others still hadn’t stopped gawking and gasping at them every time they sat down together or even smiled at each other in class.

Draco had been a gentleman these past days. He had walked Harry back to his dorm every night without exception. And he had kissed him rapidly between his cheek and his lips, not quite capable of choosing between the two.

A kiss. A big word for a such a small deed.

“For Merlin’s sake, you missed again!” Harry said, exasperated when Draco kissed him yet again on the corner of his lips. “You need to work on your trajectories. Missing the target every time is lame for a Seeker. Are you finding that funny?”

Because yes, Draco was laughing, his entire body shaking and a big smile on his lips.

“You’re such in a good mood today, aren’t you?” Draco answered, passing a hand through Harry’s messy hair.

“I’m just a bit tired of this,” Harry shot back, “damn it, it’s not like we didn’t kiss before. And it’s not like we didn’t almost sleep together. You’re driving me insane.”

“Would it make you feel better if I asked you to accompany me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

“Yeah, possibly.”

Draco leaned towards him again and whispered in his ear: “Perhaps you’ll help me work on my trajectories as you so nicely put it, I might need some training.”

 _First nice prospect of the week,_ Harry thought.

* * *

When Harry arrived in the common room, people were starting to gather around Dennis Creevey. He was standing on a chair, a little notebook in his hand, clearing his throat loudly to attract more people.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked Hermione who was observing the scene, ready to intervene.

“Dennis is bragging about some important revelations he wants to share with us,” Hermione answered, skeptical.

“It is not of my own accord that I chose to write in this diary,” Dennis started reading, “It’s obvious that such a ridiculous idea wouldn’t even have crossed my mind. It’s the Healer I was forced to meet by my mother yesterday who ordered me to keep a diary. She said it’d be the “treatment to heal from myself.” I have no idea what it means. And if I agreed, it’s certainly not because I think I need to be cured. I don’t have a choice, that’s it.”

Dennis pretended to be sad and said: “Oh poor Malfoy…”

He suddenly saw Harry in the crowd and waved the diary above his head. “Hey Harry! Did you know your friend was so messed up he needed to see a therapist?”

Every head turned to Harry who was shaking with rage. He had pulled his wand out without even noticing.

“Or perhaps you want me to read something else, a little bit more towards the end?” Dennis asked, as if lost in his thoughts as he turned the pages. “Oh yeah, there for example… His first night in Hogwarts. Very instructive. But you already know what happened on his first night in Hogwarts, don’t you? You can even tell us about it but not in too many details though, we’d all be sick!”

“ _Impedimenta_!” Harry roared and Dennis violently hit the wall of the common room.

There were some frightened gasps, either because of the violence of the impact or Harry’s face distorted with anger and rage. He walked towards Dennis who was no longer smiling and getting up with difficulty.

“Give me that,” Harry ordered, looking at Draco’s most private possession, “right now.”

“No, I think I’ll keep it a little longer.”

“Well you and I are going to pay the Headmistress a little visit then,” Harry announced while dragging him away from the crowd of silent students and added, whispering: “I think a disgusting thief like you can be expelled for what you just did, don’t you agree? And if it’s not enough, I can tell McGonagall you’re the one who nearly drowned Draco. You can’t imagine how happy I’d be if I didn’t see your nasty face every morning.”

Dennis had always been small for his age just like Colin and he couldn’t resist Harry’s grasp on his arm no matter how much he struggled.

“Harry,” Hermione said, waiting for him before the Fat Lady’s portrait, “you’re not the one who has to deal with these kinds of things.”

“Let me go through,” Harry growled.

“We need to find a Prefect, you’re not allowed to…”

“Hermione, let me go through.”

There was so much rage in his eyes that Hermione instantly moved out of the way as if she didn’t even recognize him.

Once in the hallway, Harry let go of Dennis who rubbed his aching wrist.

“Well? Not going to the Headmistress? What a surprise!”

“Have you told anyone?”

“You mean, about you and Malfoy, shagging? No, unfortunately. Not yet. But I was just about too. You just ruined it.”

Harry could barely restrain from punching Dennis in the face.

“Why are you doing this, Dennis?” he asked. “I thought…”

“You thought what? One or two things about death and a talk about what Colin would have wanted and I’d stop? Nope, 10 points from Gryffindor! But you, Harry, why are you doing this? Why are you defending him?”

“You can’t understand,” Harry whispered, pointing his wand at Dennis’ head. “ _Obliviate_.”

He knew he’d be in serious trouble if anyone knew he had used this spell on another student. But he told himself he didn’t have a choice. His friends couldn’t learn about his relationship with Draco that way.

The only memory he left was the first page of Draco’s diary, the one Dennis had read in public and the only one Harry had read himself.

* * *

When he got back, Hermione scolded him but Harry simply nodded and went to bed, locking himself from the world behind his curtains. The diary was in his hands and his fingers itched to open it. He had felt the same compulsion in his tent, back in Guernsey, when Draco’s diary had fallen from his pocket.

Read, read, read. He was trying to resist the voice telling him to invade Draco’s privacy but it was like asking an alcoholic not to taste the drink right under his nose.

All the answers Harry wanted could be in this diary. Even those to the questions he hadn’t even asked himself yet. He turned the pages, a bit distracted. He loved Draco’s handwriting. Neat, thin, with beautiful capital letters.

_“I never let her open her mouth. Not even to say hello. I enter Healer Johnson’s office, shake her hand and lie down on the couch. She tries to ask one or two questions but my eyes are already closed. I hear her quill scratching on a parchment, her clock ticking regularly. And it lulls me. One hour of sleep. One hour of peace. Because the nightmares never follow me here…”_

Harry turned a few pages. The paragraphs were never dated, there was just a space between them. Harry didn’t read everything, just a few sentences here and there as if it could soften his crime.

_“Today, when I woke up, disoriented, the jacket I left on the armchair was covering me. I got up, rubbing my eyes, confused. “You seemed cold,” Healer Johnson explained. That’s when I noticed, as I got closer to her office, her planning open on the desk. Even upside-down, a name caught my eyes. Harry Potter. Next Wednesday. So, very quickly, I asked her to change my appointments. No, Tuesday didn't suit me anymore but Wednesday did, perfectly actually, yes, it would be best. 3 PM. Yes, really more suitable for me. And that was it.”_

Harry turned the page.

_“I thought it was stupid, writing. Writing what, by the way? ‘Dear diary, there are ghosts everywhere in the Manor. And they scare me even more than all of my childhood nightmares reunited. Every time I go to the living-room, I tell myself that’s where Voldemort forced me to torture people and that’s also where Burbage got eaten by Nagini. The blood… the cries… in every single room… Granger screaming on the floor.’ ‘Dear diary, my father looks like a shadow. Part of me is thrilled. The weaker he seems, the more that part of me gloats. He deserved it. That’s what the voice say. It also says: aren’t parents supposed to protect their children? Why didn’t he protect me from this?’ ‘Dear diary, I know I blame him so I don’t blame myself. I was an adult, wasn’t I? I could have ran away without them. And then what? Join Potter? Hide?’ ”_

A little further away… _“Why does Potter go to Healer Johnson? Is he also chased by ghosts?”_

And suddenly, Harry realised that Draco was writing about the day they met in Healer Johnson’s office for the first time.

_“I arrived an hour early just to be sure I didn’t miss him. When I pushed the waiting room’s door, he was already there, sitting below the window. I could only see his head, hidden by a magazine and his rumpled hair, his large and old clothes… He threw the magazine on the table and then he noticed me. For a moment, I could only see green. “What are you doing here?” The tone was abrupt, rude. So characteristic of him. With his stupid glasses and his stubborn look. He hadn’t said two words later at the cafe but he was already exhausting me. But as I watched him, I told myself, even after being on the receiving end of a Killing Curse, that git still looked more alive than I did.”_

Harry closed the diary abruptly, ashamed and breathless. He closed his eyes. He desperately wanted to keep reading page after page and finally know everything. How Draco’s life was when he lived at the Manor. And how he had spent his time in Italy. Had he missed Harry? Had he loved someone before him? Was he in love with Harry by the way, even just a little bit? Everything was there, right under his shaky hand…

But would it have the same value?

It was so easy to steal one “I love you” here, on a page, steal a vague declaration of love between the lines of a diary. But it wouldn’t be the same as waiting for it, anticipating it, watching out for the signs.

Harry thought that he didn’t want to steal this, it was far too precious and it wouldn’t be fair to Draco.

So he hid the diary under his pillow and didn’t touch it anymore. Harry, relieved, was about to go to sleep when the curtains around his bed were ripped open by Ron. He was pale, out of breath and standing in front of Harry’s bed with his hands on his hips.

“Ron?” Harry asked, surprised.

“Tell me the truth!” Ron said, voice shaking. “Are you two in love?”

Harry felt his heartbeat go wild and sat up, worried. “What?” he asked, voice too tense. “Am I in love with… whom?”

“Hermione!”

“Hermione,” Harry repeated, blinking, “am I in love with Hermione?”

Harry burst out laughing, falling back on his pillow. He couldn’t stop. He tried though, he did everything he could to calm down but every time he looked at Ron’s face, bright red and angry, he started laughing even harder. He laughed so much there were tears around his eyes and his stomach hurt.

“Sorry,” Harry said, taking off his glasses to wipe his eyes. “It’s just… Ron… I thought you were mad at me because of Malfoy.”

“You thought wrong!”

“It’s because of Hermione? Bloody hell, we’ve been there before, you’re not going to start again, are you? How many times do I have to tell you? Hermione’s my best friend in the most platonic way ever. I’ve never been in love with her and I never will.”

“Oh,” Ron said, hiding his hands in his pockets, “So that’s not why you left Ginny?”

“Of course not!”

“But, before the ball, she was in your arms…”

“And you know it didn’t mean anything!”

“And what about Malfoy? I thought it confirmed it, I…”

“Confirmed what?”

“About Hermione!” Ron answered as if it all made sense to him, “I thought that if you were getting close to him, it was so you could stay away from me… because of your feelings for Hermione! I thought you were trying to find a way to push me back and that being friends with Malfoy was the best way you found… You see?”

Harry, who didn’t understand anything, shook his head.

“I’m not sure, no,” he answered softly, “but please, don’t ever try to come up with sentimental theories, okay? They’re completely ridiculous.”

Ron had a real smile, the first one in days and Harry’s terrible mood seemed to vanish. His Dementor was gone. It was always like that with Ron, they swore never to speak with each other and became friends again without apologizing, forgetting their row had ever happened.

As if they hadn’t stopped talking for about a week, Ron sat down at the edge of Harry’s bed and ate some of his candy.

“So, Malfoy eh?” he asked while frowning because he ate a soap flavored candy from Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. “You’re sure about that, mate?”

Harry shrugged. “He’s not so…”

“Insufferable?” Ron finished for him. “Maybe, Harry, but you shouldn’t have lied to us.”

“I know…”

“Bloody hell, I’m not stupid. I know that Malfoy has never really been a Death Eater and that yes, he may deserve a second chance. But what I don’t get is why you didn’t tell us. It got me so mad, the fact that you were hiding it from us. Blimey, why did I have to hear it from Smith of all people? It would have done a lot less damage if you had explained… And of course, I wouldn’t have imagined the worst…”

“I’m really sorry, Ron.”

Harry stared at his best friend and suddenly, he wanted to tell him everything.

 _Ron, I love him. You see, no more secrets. He’s not my friends. I love him. I love him like I never loved your sister…_  

But it was brief and Harry pulled himself together, kept his secret locked up behind his lips even though he knew that one day, it would blow up on his face and it would be much more violent.

“By the way, Dennis is completely mental! What’s his problem with Malfoy exactly?”

“He wants revenge and Draco is the easiest target because he came back to Hogwarts and all the others are hiding…” Harry answered, keeping his voice low. “Creevey is the one who tried to drown him. He wanted to scare him.”

“And he wasn’t expelled?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Ron was gobsmacked.

“It’s Dennis, Ron,” Harry protested, “he’s still a kid. A kid who had terrible things happen in his life and who lost his brother. He’s angry but…”

“I lost my brother,” Ron answered back, “and I never wanted to drown Malfoy.”

“I know and I’m not making excuses for him. If I could kick his arse without getting expelled myself I would but…”

“…you’re like your parents and Dumbledore. You always see the best in people and you always want to trust them. I just hope you’re right and that his anger won’t turn him into someone he’s not. But Malfoy’s your friend, after all, not mine.”

Harry stayed quiet. He knew his decision might bring him and Draco even more trouble.

“Talking about Malfoy, did you get his diary back?” Ron asked, smiling when he saw Harry nodding. “So?”

“So what?”

“You didn’t take a look?”

“What for?” Harry mumbled, a little uncomfortable.

“You’re not even curious?” Ron asked, surprised. “Seamus says he’s sleeping with Parkinson - ugh. But I think there’s something sketchy with that Sixth Year… Astoria, I think?”

Harry rolled his eyes.

 _No, Ron_ , he thought. _There’s something sketchy with me._

* * *

The next day, Harry waited for Draco in the Great Hall, impatient and nervous. Before leaving the dorm, he had tried three different outfits and found himself uglier each time. He had even tried to do something to his hair as if they were going on a proper date.

Draco emerged from the dungeons when all of the other students were already gone. He smiled at Harry.

“Have you done something to your hair?”

“I tried to. A bit.”

Draco shook his head, laughing and ran his hands through Harry’s hair, saying he liked it better this way. They headed towards Hogsmeade, away from the crowds so that they could lean towards each other and brush hands.

“I think this visit is boring, actually,” Draco said after a moment.

“What about the company?”

“The company isn’t very chatty today.”

“It’s because I need to tell you something but I don’t know how.”

Draco stared at him questioningly, urging him to go on. Harry took a deep breath.

“Dennis stole your diary. He read the first page in front of the entire Gryffindor common room. And it got me incredibly angry so I might have hexed him a little. And I also got your diary back, modified his memory so he won’t remember the rest of it. He was planning on making big revelations to everyone.”

“You _modified_ his memories?” Draco asked, shocked.

“Yeah. And there’s something else… I read a few pages of your diary. Afterwards. But I stopped very quickly, I promise. I realised it was not only a shitty behaviour that wasn’t much better than Dennis’ and that I was betraying you but I also didn’t even want to learn anything that way. Are you very angry?”

Draco had stopped walking. Nervous, Harry handed back the diary he had kept in his pocket.

“I’m not mad,” Draco answered, taking it carefully. “I noticed that the Gryffindors were staring at me this morning - well, even more than usual. Come on, relax. If I had yours, I never would have been able to close it, believe me.”

Harry looked relieved and let out an enormous sigh.

“Where did you stop?” Draco asked.

“The day we met in Healer Johnson’s office.”

“Really not curious then.”

“I just didn’t want to know it like that.”

“Know what?” Draco asked, puzzled.

Harry started walking again, this time much more freely. His steps seemed lighter.

“Whether I’m waiting for nothing or not. Where do you want to go? Honeydukes? Zonko? The Three Broomsticks? I think you’re right, these visits to Hogsmeade are getting boring.”

They still went to the Three Broomsticks, sat down in a corner of the pub next to each other in the middle of the voices and laughs. Heads bent towards each other and voices hushed, their legs almost intertwined, they could have been alone in the world.

Harry told him about Ron’s suspicions on who Draco was sleeping with (he laughed so much when Harry mentioned Parkinson). He also wanted to make sure Harry wasn’t in love with Hermione and made him swear with his hand on his heart. Harry felt Draco’s thigh against his, his perfume, his breath when he whispered in his ear. How could he even think about being in love with someone else? It was torture.

“Are you really afraid of that?” Draco asked suddenly. “Of waiting for nothing? You think I’d be capable of toying with you like that? Letting you imagine things that’ll never happen?”

“I don’t know. I still think you don’t know what you want.”

“I know perfectly well what I want, Harry.”

“Really?”

Draco nodded. Something changed in the way they looked at each other. There was a new intensity. A need. A desire.

“I want to kiss you, I want to…” Draco whispered, biting his lip, visibly frustrated, “I’m done, I surrender, I’m shutting my brain off. Is there a place we could go to? Somewhere we’ll be alone?”

Draco put his hand on Harry’s thigh, insistent and warm.

“Are you sure?” Harry said with surprise, suddenly nervous.

“Absolutely.”

“Who are you? A clone? What have you done with the Draco Malfoy who couldn’t decide whether to kiss me on the mouth or on the cheek?”

“I’m possibly a clone. A clone who’s tired of being scared and who thinks it’s time to be brave. Worse, my clone is sexually frustrated at the moment. Well, damn it, I think my clone might be a Gryffindor.”

Harry laughed loudly.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh.”

“Merlin, I like your clone,” Harry answered, “let’s get out of here. I know where we can go.”

They Apparated and the moment they landed in Grimmauld Place, Harry lost his breath. Draco was kissing him, not on the cheek, not too softly, not carefully. He was finally kissing him for real, hands on his neck, pushing him against the wall. Harry was so happy to finally feel all of this again. He opened his mouth and kissed Draco back, biting sometimes, hands everywhere. It all felt so familiar.

They stumbled towards the couch, still kissing each other. They missed it and fell on the floor, laughing without ever stopping leaving small kisses wherever they could. The floor was hard, the carpet dusty and the body on top of him was heavy but Harry didn’t care as long as Draco’s hands stayed under his jumper, pinching his nipples and caressing his skin. Harry thought he was going to lose his mind when Draco slipped a hand in his pants.

“I imagine there’s a bedroom here?”

“Several even, yeah,” Harry answered, out of breath, pupils dilated already.

Draco got up and pulled Harry towards him, holding his hand firmly as he climbed the stairs, almost running. They got to the second floor in a matter of seconds.

 _Is is actually happening?_ Harry thought. _Even though yesterday, he wouldn’t even kiss me properly?_

He didn’t care about the reasonable voice in his head. He was eighteen years old, damn it. And what had he done so far that normal teenagers and young adults did? Nothing. He had fought in a war, nearly died too many times and had been hunted by a crazy dark wizard almost all his life. He deserved to live a little now.

And Draco pulling him inside a bedroom, kissing him, was exactly what living is supposed to be. It was spontaneous and a bit crazy but it was everything Harry wanted.

Step one: holding hands by the lake. Once.

Step two: kiss each other on the corner of the mouth in a hallway. Six times.

Step three: have sex in Sirius’ house? No, definitely not planned. So what? Wasn’t it what Harry wanted since the beginning?

They managed to find a lamp but it didn’t work properly so the room was barely lit. Lips stuck to Harry’s, Draco took off both their jackets. Then, he made Harry raise his arms and almost ripped his jumper while he struggled with the buttons of his own shirt with his free hand. Smiling, Draco delicately took off Harry’s glasses and pulled him back against him, bare skin against bare skin, hands in his hair.

They landed on the bed and a cloud of dust appeared around them. They laughed again while they coughed. Draco looked around for the first time and winced.

“It’s not very…”

“What?” Harry said, looking around too. “Romantic?”

“I was going to say clean…”

“Who cares?”

He made Draco lie down again and straddled his hips, kissed his chest and licked the scar all the way to the clavicle. Then, he unbuttoned his jeans, letting his fingers brush against Draco’s erection. Harry took off Draco’s shoes and threw them over his shoulders and into an old flower vase.

“I’ll have you know those Italian shoes are extremely expensive,” Draco said but Harry only shrugged and finally managed to drag Draco’s trousers and underwear down.

He looked up. Draco was now naked, lying down in the middle of the bed on top of the dusty sheets. His hair was completely ruined, lips swollen and eyes wide awake, staring at Harry as if he wanted to devour him. He thought he was so beautiful his arms moved on their own accord, from Draco’s ankles to his hips where he started touching him, moving his hand up and down, encouraged by moans and hisses.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Draco said, getting up.

Soon, they were both naked and pressed against each other, groins touching, kissing, discovering each other all over again. Harry wanted him so much it hurt.

“You’re so thin,” Draco whispered, “I didn’t feel your ribs that much before, did I?”

“Shut up, Draco, shut up…”

“Are you… sure?” Draco asked again and he definitely wasn’t talking about his weight but about what he was about to do.

Harry groaned.

“I swear, if you leave me like this I will behead you and hang your head on the wall with Kreacher’s ancestors, okay?”

Draco laughed and made Harry lie on his back comfortably, kissing him, telling him that he was beautiful. When he spread Harry’s legs and sat down between them, he didn’t even feel a little bit scared. He wanted Draco so much. He was finally getting everything he wanted, everything he dreamt of right from the beginning of their relationship.

Harry kept his eyes open all the time. He wanted to memorise everything, every little detail. He stared at Draco’s face, watched him concentrate as he Summoned lube and poured some on his fingers, warming it. He watched him as he pushed one, two, three fingers inside him, watched how Draco’s face lit up when he saw Harry writhing on the bed, begging for more.

But the moment Harry preferred was when Draco finally entered him, very slowly. Harry gripped the sheets and forced himself to keep his eyes open so he could see Draco’s expression, the way he licked his lip and gasped when he bottomed out.

When Harry bit the back of his hand, in pain, Draco took it and kissed him instead, massaging him, telling him to relax.

“Shh, it’ll be better in a moment, just keep breathing in and out, yeah, that’s good, Harry, you feel so good around me…”

And even though Harry still felt a little bit of discomfort, he also knew he was giving Draco so much pleasure, so much trust, inviting him in his body so willingly, giving him his first time with a man.

He told himself he didn’t even care one bit about the pain, he just wanted Draco to move right now and finally take him. He caught his stare and started moving his hips slightly, encouraging Draco to start thrusting.

Harry wasn’t too sure what happened next, he just got lost in the sensations. He was burning up, nothing was cold anymore. Everything had been replaced by lava. The heat under his skin was so strong he thought he was going to melt.

He also thought it was really beautiful, seeing Draco like this, pleasure illuminating everything. His body, his gasps, his eyes, his smile. Harry held his hand up and cupped his damp cheek. Draco kissed his palm and wrapped himself around Harry.

He was now nuzzling Harry’s neck and guiding his spread legs around his waist. From afar, nobody would know which limb belonged to each boy. They stayed that way long minutes, rocking against each other, kissing and enjoying that intimate moment.

Then, Draco lifted Harry’s leg and thrusted deeper, making Harry gasp loudly.

“There, yes, right there, please harder,” he managed to say.

Draco heard him and started pounding him so hard the headboard slammed against the wall, creating even more dust. They didn’t even notice; they had eyes only for each other. Draco barely needed to touch Harry’s erection trapped between them; he was already achingly hard and leaking. He came, eyes wide open, mouth frozen in surprise because he knew it would feel good but not that insanely exquisite.

Draco kept fucking him hard but Harry found out he didn’t even mind or feel over sensitive. Now that pleasure wasn’t clouding his mind, he could simply enjoy feeling Draco inside him, thrusting into him. But soon, he released himself as well, repeating Harry’s name again and again before sprawling all over him. He stayed there long minutes, face pressed in his neck, trying to catch his breath.

He pulled out and let Harry’s legs fall on the bed. His arse was pleasantly sore and filled with Draco’s release which he was surprised to find oddly erotic.

“Merlin…” Draco said finally, rolling on his side of the bed.

“I think I might start to like this house.”

“I think I might too,” Draco added, smiling and watching Harry with fondness. “Am I going to keep my head then?”

“Yeah definitely.”

“Thank Merlin,” Draco said, pretending to be relieved as if he had actually taken Harry’s threat seriously. “Excellent choice. I can do nice things with my mouth, you’ll see.”

Harry smiled and laced his arms around Draco. He wanted to say stupid things. You’re beautiful, I love you. Please, take me again. Let’s stay here, who cares about Hogwarts? We could spend our lives in here, making love? Would you ever get tired of it? I don’t think I can get tired of having you inside me.

“Should we stay a little longer?” Draco whispered and Harry nodded, eyes already closing. “Sleep well,” he added and Harry thought he felt a kiss on his forehead but he wasn’t really sure.

In Draco’s arms, falling asleep was a promise of safety and warmth.

* * *

“Harry… Harry, wake up…”

Harry’s eyes fluttered open. Draco was leaning over him, all dressed up and trying to wake him up.

“It’s late, we slept too much.”

“How late?” Harry asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Past 10 P.M.,” Draco answered, looking for the shoe Harry had tossed away, “and you know what? McGonagall is going to kill us. The gate is long locked by now and they probably noticed we never made it back.”

“But… How are we going to go back?”

“I have no idea.”

Harry shivered. The room was dark and his fingers and toes were numb. He was cold again, so cold he thought all of the heat in his body was now completely gone. Draco picked up his clothes scattered all over the room and handed them to Harry.

“Come on, Harry, you need to hurry up.”

Harry got dressed as quickly as he could but his arms didn’t seem to work properly. He felt so heavy, nauseous and frozen. Exhausted, weak. His hands were shaking, he couldn’t even tie his shoelaces.

“Harry, are you okay?” Draco asked worriedly, crouching down in front of him.

“I don’t know. I don’t feel so good.”

“Let me do it,” Draco said, pushing Harry’s shaking hands off of his shoes.

He tied them and helped Harry put on his jacket.

“Tell me, you’re not regretting anything, are you?”

“No, it has nothing to do with that, I loved it. I guess I’m probably coming down with something. I think I have a fever.”

Draco touched his forehead and frowned. He said they would stop by the infirmary when they got back to the school.

They Apparated to Hogsmeade quickly and Draco, in a hurry, was already walking in the foggy street. No one was there, people were asleep in their homes and all of the shops were closed. The rain made it even more difficult for Harry to keep up. His legs were like jelly, he couldn’t walk anymore.

Draco turned around and put an arm around Harry’s waist and almost carried him.

“I’m worried about you,” he said softly.

“Think I’m already turning into an iceberg?” Harry joked.

“I don’t know,” Draco answered, not even smiling a little bit, “but your fingers are frozen.”

The castle’s gate was indeed closed, it was impossible for them to come through. They stayed there a long time, still holding on tight, not quite knowing what to do. But Harry suddenly had an idea.

“Kreacher!” he called and the House Elf appeared immediately in front of them. “Do you think you could take us inside?”

Kreacher nodded and his eyes fell on Draco.

“Master Harry is with young Master Malfoy!” he said with amazement.

“He’s probably the only one impressed by that,” Draco mumbled.

“I forgot to tell you he’s a little bit in love with you,” Harry joked but Draco still didn’t feel like laughing.

Kreacher took their hands and Apparated. When he touched the floor again, Harry thought he was choking, wondered if hands weren’t strangling him. He leant forward, hands on his knees. Something was buzzing in his ears and suddenly he couldn’t see anything.

He struggled to stay conscious.

“Harry? Harry!”

It was Draco’s voice, far away.

“Master is sick!” Kreacher squeaked, panicked. “Master is sick!”

Harry lost his balance and fell. Everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really really sorry about the ending! Next chapter will be the last terribly angsty one I promise! Also, the biggest thank you goes to my friend Jen who helped me imagine the explicit part of this chapter. And of course, thanks to all those of you who comment, bookmark and leave kudos, you are the highlights of my days!  
> By the way, did you guys liked discovering Draco's thoughts in his diary?  
> PS: if any of you has any tip about how to apply to uni (how to write personal statement, choose courses etc) please send me a message on Tumblr or leave a comment! I don't really know how to apply because I don't live in the UK. My Tumblr: casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com


	18. Hearts of ice

Harry opened his eyes. He didn’t feel any pain, he was just disoriented and dizzy. His arms were heavy as concrete and his eyes foggy. His skin felt odd.

The fog in his eyes started to disappear and he managed to see a familiar white ceiling. Harry knew it was the infirmary. He closed his eyes again. His bed certainly felt nice and he was so tired. Maybe he could go back to sleep.

“He’s waking up?” Hermione asked. “Ron, is he waking up?”

“You’re crushing my hand, Hermione, but yes, I think so! Oh no, false alarm. Harry? Harry? He looks terrible, doesn’t he? Don’t you think he’s a little pale?”

“Of course he is, Ronald. Wouldn’t you be if you stayed unconscious for twenty hours?”

“But Madam Pomfrey said he didn’t have anything, right? Nothing serious anyway?”

“Overwork, insomnia, panic attacks. That’s what you call nothing serious?”

“You know what I mean! Nothing physically wrong, like an incurable sickness or something. He really was starting to freak me out with his hypothermia thing. Do you think he’s depressed?”

“I don’t know.”

“We would’ve noticed, right?”

“When would you have noticed? When you didn’t speak to him because you thought he was in love with me?”

“Oh alright with that, I told you a hundred times that we talked about it and we’re friends again. I said I’m sorry. Hermione, don’t look so cross.”

Silence.

“Hey? Are you really mad?”

There was a noise that sounded a lot like a kiss and Hermione laughed.

“Why do you think him and Malfoy got back so late? McGonagall was furious.”

“And I get why, Ron. Apparently the teachers looked for them in all of Hogsmeade. Malfoy said they were in London. And he got an entire month of detention.”

“And what the bloody hell were they doing in London?”

“How should I know? I was with you, wasn’t I?”

“And have you seen Malfoy’s face when he left the infirmary?”

“Yes. And the more I think about it, the more I think that Harry had the same exact expression… You know, when we saved Malfoy in the lake. He looked completely terrified.”

“Do you reckon they’re really friends now?”

“Yes, I do believe so.”

“I still think it’s weird. And I don’t understand it at all. Malfoy didn’t pretend to be a git all of these years, no? And when he called you a you-know-what, he obviously meant it.”

“Maybe we just didn’t pay enough attention to him…”

“To who? Malfoy?”

“Not Malfoy, Harry! We’re always together, you and I. He must have felt lonely. The third wheel. Especially after his break up with Ginny. He probably went looking for friendship elsewhere.”

“Seeking friendship elsewhere is okay. Seeking friendship with Malfoy is a whole different thing! I’m not even sure this git knows what friendship is.”

“I think Malfoy is lonely too, perhaps even more than Harry. The other students are really terrible with him this year.”

“Yeah, and we all know how our Harry is. Always wants to save the widow, the orphan and the son of a Death Eater rejected by society…”

“Ron!”

“Sorry. It’s just… weird to see them chatting like two old mates, laughing together. Did you know that Malfoy can laugh without making fun of someone? Neville almost fainted the day he came and sat down at our table. And frankly, who would have blamed him? I almost fainted myself. Have you seen how happy that git looked?”

“Well, considering how ridiculously surprised and shocked you looked, I can understand why.”

“So you think it’s normal? This new friendship coming out of nowhere? With his worst enemy?”

“I don’t like Malfoy any more than you do, Ron. But I think you’re too hard on him. Everyone seems to want to make him pay… for what, by the way? The war? As if someone would have wanted to be in his shoes back then, even for a minute! And things could have turned out very differently if Malfoy hadn’t disarmed Dumbledore or, willingly or not, gave us more time at the Manor when he couldn’t recognise Harry. Perhaps Voldemort wouldn’t be dead.”

“Yeah, the Elder wand wouldn’t have been Harry’s…”

“And he would have been dead. Probably. What kind of lives would we have now?”

“Do you remember, Hermione, when they came back from the forest, Hagrid carrying his body. I thought… I really thought…”

“I know. Me too.”

A new silence cut by soft sighs.

“Madam Pomfrey did say he wasn’t in danger, right? He’s not going to… die?”

“Of course not, Ron. He’s going to be fine. If something had happened, she would have told us. Now come on, let’s go to dinner, we promised to bring back news to the others.”

“You tell Malfoy then. I won’t talk to him. I warned Harry, it’s his friend, not mine.”

Their voices wandered. Harry hadn’t moved. He had listened, half-conscious. He had heard the words overwork, panic attack and depression. It made him feel better. At least, it wasn’t the cold. Relieved, he floated again and went back to sleep.

* * *

Harry woke up a few hours later. It was night time and the infirmary was silent. Eyes wide open, Harry fumbled with his sheets, tried to cover himself because he was cold. There was light in Madam Pomfrey’s office and he could hear drawers opening and closing, vials of potions colliding.

He managed to swallow with difficulty. His throat was dry and he was thirsty.

“Ah, Potter. I knew I heard noise.”

Madam Pomfrey was still in her infirmary robes despite the late hour. She sat down at the edge of the bed and helped him get up. She put pillows behind his back and gave him a glass of water.

“How do you feel, Potter?”

“I don’t know,” Harry answered, voice hoarse, “odd. What happened?”

She sighed under Harry’s worried look.

“I heard Ron and Hermione talking before,” he added, “and they said I didn’t have anything serious. Only, you don’t look like someone who’s going to tell me I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Harry…”

He tried to smile. “Well, I fainted, that’s not too great but it happened before…”

“You didn’t faint, Potter,” Madam Pomfrey said with difficulty, “last night, when you fell in the hallway, your heart stopped beating.”

Harry stared at her. He couldn’t speak anymore.

“Mr Malfoy sent the elf to me. And fortunately I managed to get there on time. I got your heart to start again without too much difficulty and prevented your brain from being deprived from oxygen too long.”

“My heart stopped beating?” Harry repeated, hesitating between disbelief and panic. “But… how… why?”

“It seems your temperature dropped so quickly you had severe hypothermia and it provoked a heart attack.”

“Hypothermia?”

She nodded gloomily. “Mr Malfoy assured me that he didn’t throw you head first in a frozen lake and he also told me you didn’t Apparate to Alaska. Only London. He also told me you complained about the cold for a long time now.”

“Yes but I thought… Everyone kept telling me it was in my head. That I kept having panic attacks because of the war. I even started to believe them… I told myself, okay, Harry, this time you’re losing it…”

He passed his hand over his face as if it could wipe the anxiety etched upon it. He wanted to go back to sleep, wake up and forget this conversation ever happened. He wanted to go back to Grimmauld Place, in a bed with dusty sheets. He wanted Draco.

But he could pinch himself all he wanted, he wasn’t dreaming, reality was this: Madam Pomfrey kept talking in a medical language he didn’t understand. She talked about a heart stopping in a hallway. A heart of ice.

“I ran some tests, Potter,” she continued slowly as if she were choosing her words with care, “and I found something very unusual.”

Harry froze. He wasn’t sure he was ready to hear whatever she was going to say.

“Humans normally have a constant temperature but you don’t. Yours doesn’t regulate itself. To put it simply: your body can’t adapt to exterior conditions. Exterior conditions determine your body temperature. Do you understand? That’s why it’s never the same. And that’s also why you’re getting colder and colder. We had a nice and long summer but it’s over now. I never saw this in my entire career. Only cold blooded animals have that system…”

Harry felt nauseous. He thought about his nightmares and the snakes inside him. A head coming out of his mouth while he stared at himself in the mirror. Snakes whispering around him, curling around his wrists and ankles.

He shook his face to drive the images away.

“Despite everything,” she continued, “your body can take the warmth it needs elsewhere. It’s very reassuring.”

“Elsewhere?”

“Let’s just say you shouldn’t neglect the person who holds your hand.”

“You mean I suck people’s warmth? That’s very vampiric.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr Potter, that’s impossible. No, what I’m saying is that somehow, Draco Malfoy is able to provide warmth for you. It only works with him.”

“Oh.”

That was all Harry had managed to say. His cheeks were bright red.

“Touch my hand,” Madam Pomfrey ordered. Harry did so. “Do you feel anything?”

He only felt skin, nothing else. No warmth. He shook his head.

“But why did my heart stop? Why did I get so cold suddenly?”

Madam Pomfrey looked a bit embarrassed. “I spoke with Mr Malfoy. For a long time.”

“What did he say?”

“A lot of things. What you should have told me or Minerva when you noticed the first symptoms. Voldemort, the Horcruxes, your sacrifice in the Forbidden Forest. Starting from there, I can only make hypothesizes.”

“And these are…?”

“When you were in London, your body absorbed too much warmth. Too much in one go.”

Harry remembered feeling like he was burning up in Draco’s arms. “Oh… Draco told you about that too…”

“Not voluntarily but yes,” she said with a smile. “Well, Potter, don’t look so mortified, I’m an old nurse, I’ve seen quite a few things in my career. And I think that when you got back from London, you lost the warmth too suddenly…”

“My body temperature dropped… And so… What? Am I turning into a snake? That’s what you’re telling me?”

“Don’t be stupid!”

“But you’re the one who told me my body was behaving like a cold blooded animal!”

“Like a cold blooded animal, yes, but it doesn’t mean you’re turning into one.”

“And yet… What about Voldemort? You must’ve noticed what he looked like, right? The more he cut his soul into pieces, the more his humanity disappeared so maybe, maybe when I tore that piece of his soul from mine, I managed to cut it as well… Yes, that sounds logical, I’m losing my humanity…”

He touched his face with shaky hands as if he were expecting to find an empty spot instead of his nose. Barely relieved when he felt that it was still there, he got up and started walking back and forth in the infirmary.

“Potter, please calm down and go back to bed! What you’re saying makes no sense!”

“My eyes!” Harry said suddenly, making Madam Pomfrey jump. “How are my eyes?”

“Perfectly normal!”

“The pupil, it’s round? Not vertical? Are you sure?”

“Absolutely certain, Potter.”

He let himself fall back on the bed. “Then why? Why is my body reacting this way?”

“The Killing Curse is extremely violent,” she answered, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder, “when you were just a baby, it simply rebounded. But not this time. This time the curse went through you, Harry, and it killed Voldemort’s soul, not yours, be sure of that. But it might have… disturbed certain mechanisms. The human body is an incredibly mysterious and complicated thing, we don’t know everything there is to know about it yet.”

Harry nodded, lost in his thoughts.

“That’s why you’ll go to St Mungo’s in a few days. Winter’s coming. If we don’t do anything, you won’t survive it.”

He didn’t even try to protest.

* * *

Three days passed.

Three incredibly boring days locked away in the infirmary, between four white walls he wanted to break. Each night, Ron and Hermione would bring him homework and gossips but Harry could only answer with fake smiles full of worry and lies.

_No, everything’s fine, if I stay here it’s just by precaution, so I can get better but I’m fine, I promise. St Mungo’s? Just so they can check everything works fine because I fainted, to make sure it doesn’t happen again._

He got visitors. They never stayed long though because Madam Pomfrey made sure to keep the heating on at all times and they couldn’t stand how hot it was in the infirmary. Neville, Dean, Seamus, Ginny and Luna came but not Draco. Never Draco.

Harry had waited for him. His eyes wandered towards the door every time it opened. But each time, his smile vanished and his heart sank a little lower. Why wouldn’t he come? He had tried to imagine what had happened in the hallway when they got back from London. Draco must’ve leaned over him, searched for a pulse and realized there wasn’t any. No pulse, no breathing, only silence, emptiness and a body with nothing alive in it anymore.

The third day, Harry waited for the night to come and for Madam Pomfrey to finally go to bed. He put his invisibly cloak on, silently thanking Ron for bringing it earlier. He walked all the way through the castle in his hospital gown, bare feet against the cold floor. He already knew where to find Draco because he was nowhere to be seen on the Marauder’s Map.

He arrived on the sixth floor, closed his eyes and wished to find Draco. The door of the Requirement Room appeared and, when he pushed it open, he was welcomed by bright light. It was strange to see the sunlight and a blue sky through the windows at midnight. The sound of the waves crashing on the beach and the salty taste on his lips made sense to him instantly. He had been there before, he recognised the softness of the room.

Guernsey. Their hotel room, the one in which they had shared a bed for the first time.

Draco was sitting down on the floor, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He was holding an almost empty bottle of Firewhisky in his hand and parchments stained by ink were scattered all over the room as if he had thrown everything impulsively.

Harry took off his cloak. Draco barely raised his eyes.

“Not dead yet?” he asked, laughing joylessly, “You know, if you keep trying and trying, you’ll manage to actually do it.”

Harry sat down in front of him, watching as Draco poured himself another glass. His hand was shaking and he looked terrible. Glassy eyes, dirty clothes and disheveled, messy hair. The dark circles around his eyes were almost purple.

“You didn’t come,” Harry whispered.

“Where?”

“The infirmary.”

“Why would I go there?”

“To see me?”

“I got news form Granger. She seemed to think I cared.” He bit his lip and added: “Do your friends know, by the way? That you’re lying to them? I almost laughed at her, you know, when she told me you had a panic attack and you needed rest. I almost said… No, you’re not quite right, no panic attack… It was a heart attack.”

“You drank too much,” Harry declared, trying to take his glass away from him.

But even though he was drunk, Draco still had strength and wrestled a moment with him before spilling the Firewhisky all over his jumper.

“You look terrible.”

“What? Don’t tell me you care?” Draco answered.

“Of course I care!”

Draco got up, took off his wet jumper and drank right from the bottle.

“Oh, I see your point. Now that we slept together, you’re imagining… what? That we’re a couple? That you’re my boyfriend and I’m going to confess my undying love for you? Well, no. I fucked you and it was alright. Don’t think there’s anything else to it, you’d only get hurt.”

“It was… alright,” Harry repeated. “Alright?”

“When I fucked you, yeah,” Draco said, shrugging, “When you died in the hallway… less cool.”

“What are you trying to do, Draco?”

“I’m getting drunk, can’t you see that?”

“Why?”

Draco thought about it for a minute. “Testing my stomach. I want to see if I can finish this bottle without being sick. Think I can do it?”

“You do know I almost died, right?” Harry said, exasperated.

Draco pretended to be surprised: “Oh really? Thanks for the update but I was there!”

“And you’re not even asking what’s wrong with me? You don’t care?”

“Potter, I’m amazed, for once in your life you got it right. I’m not asking because I don’t care. That’s it.”

“You’re lying. You wouldn’t be here, in our room, if you didn’t care. And you wouldn’t have held my hands for hours while I was unconscious until I got warmer. Madam Pomfrey told me.”

“I’m here because it’s always summer in the Requirement Room, even at night… Believe what you want.”

Harry crossed his arms on his chest. “I’m going to St Mungo’s tomorrow morning.”

“I’m not listening!” Draco answered, plugging his ears, “Can’t you see I’m not listening? But keep going, Harry! Keep talking, keep telling yourself it meant something when we had sex! Keep telling yourself I have feelings for you! Keep thinking I was scared when you fell!”

He threw his glass against the wall and stopped screaming at Harry. The only sound in the room was his heavy breathing. As if he could barely stand to talk, he continued in a soft voice:

“You just looked dead at the beginning. And then I leaned over you and shook you but you weren’t breathing. That’s how it happened. So don’t tell me how I’m supposed to react, you weren’t there Harry, you didn’t see…” He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t even bear to think about what he had seen.

“When we brought you back from the lake, you looked dead too,” Harry answered provocatively, “just at the beginning. And then we brought you back to the shore and you weren’t breathing either.”

Draco smiled. “Well done, you always find a way to turn things at your advantage.”

“But if I recall,” Harry continued, ignoring him, “I didn’t behave like a complete wanker afterwards!”

“No, that’s me… Always me.”

Harry shook his head. “You nearly die, you drink. I nearly die, you drink too. And you push me away, every time. You need to explain it to me, Draco. Because if you don’t find a good reason to explain this shitty behaviour, I swear to Merlin I will walk out of this bedroom and you will never see me again.”

“Never again? Wow that’s melodramatic, Potter.”

“You think I don’t know you’re lying?” Harry yelled back, “That I don’t know you were scared? That you still are, even now?”

“Shut up! And get out of here! I don’t need you. Look at you for Merlin’s sake! Look at you! You’re sick, nobody knows what’s wrong with you and you wander half naked in the castle even though it’s freezing outside! You should go back to Healer Johnson, Harry. Why are you so keen on trying to kill yourself?”

Harry still hadn’t moved.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” Draco yelled, kicking in the table in the room, sending it flying. “Get out of here! I don’t want to see you! I don’t want you to mess with my head again! I don’t want to see you dead again! I don’t want you, I don’t want you anymore, I don’t! I can’t!”

Draco fell to the floor, hid his face in his hands and picked up his bottle of Firewhisky.

Harry got up slowly, his face all wet. He felt like a kid who hadn’t learned how to walk yet. Cotton legs, broken heart. He took a step back. And then another.

Once he was outside, he let himself lean on the wall. Inside the room, he could hear Draco throwing things on the wall, breaking their room.

* * *

Harry was preparing his rucksack. Clothes, a few books, his toiletries. His movements were slow, mechanical. He hadn’t slept. He couldn’t. He had spent hours staring at the ceiling and then he had watched the sunrise through the windows.

He felt like he had barely grazed the surface of something and then it had been taken away from him. It was a draft of a love story, ripped, smeared and torn apart by Draco. He didn’t have anything left to keep holding on to.

“Are you ready to leave?” an hesitant voice asked behind him.

Harry stiffened instantly. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t heard Draco approaching. He didn’t seem to have slept any more than Harry. Hands behind his back and head low, he got closer. Less than a meter separated them now.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching for to touch Harry’s cheek.

He turned away. “I don’t care, Draco, it’s too late. This time you went too far.”

Draco suspended his hand and let it fall down.

“I wasn’t myself. Alcohol makes me mean.”

“I noticed,” Harry answered coldly while folding his clothes, “and I’ve had enough. I can’t keep letting you do that. You treat me like shit and then you come back. And I forgive you. Over and over. I don’t like the person I’m becoming.”

“Harry…”

“I needed you, Draco. You should’ve been there, I should’ve been able to talk to you. Share this enormous fear that’s eating me alive with you. Because yes, it did mean something to me, what happened in Grimmauld Place. I thought it meant something to you too. But I was wrong, you fucked me and it was alright.”

Draco cringed when he heard the words he had said last night.

“I needed you and you weren’t there,” Harry kept going, throwing clothes in his rucksack now, “I had to come to you. And last night… It was like you threw me off a goddamn cliff.”

He watched Draco, tried to print his face in his mind. He seemed to be in immeasurable pain, the pain of someone who’s devastated and who doesn’t know if he’s currently losing everything.

“I love you,” Harry whispered, “I really do but I can’t keep letting you destroy me like that.”

Draco lowered his eyes and stared at his shoes to hide himself. But hide what? The mask he wore every day, finally falling off? Hide that he had understood it was over because of him? He seemed a bit unsteady as if he were about to fall. Harry wanted to step forward and help him, take him in his arms and tell him to keep standing up, to keep fighting. Now wasn’t the time to give up.

“I wish I could tell you it won’t ever happen again,” Draco said, voice muffled, “but I can’t. I just wish you’d give me another chance. One last time.”

His head was now raised and he was staring in the two hopeful eyes in front of him. It hurt Harry to do so but he shook his head and said no.

“I get it,” Draco whispered. He pulled a little notebook from his pocket and handed it to Harry, “take this then.”

“It’s your diary,” Harry protested.

“I know. You’ll need something to read in the hospital, to pass the time.”

“I can’t!’

“Yes you can. I’m asking you to. Not so you can forgive me, not so you can understand but because there are things I can’t say. It’s all right here.”

Harry took the notebook and put it in his pocket. It was far too precious to put in a rucksack. He had packed all his things now and was ready to go. But he couldn’t anymore.

“Be curious, this time. I want you to be,” Draco said. “How long are you going to be there?”

Harry nodded, certain that with Draco’s permission he’d feel less guilty about reading his personal thoughts. “I don’t know, a week, maybe more.”

He looked all over the infirmary but not towards Draco. He couldn’t. If he did, he didn’t know what he’d do. He told himself he had made a stupid decision, that ripping a part of his heart when it was already so fragile was a bit suicidal. Brave but silly.

_Give him a last chance. One last chance. What’s the risk? Getting hurt again? So what? It’s better than being alone, right? It’s better than being without him._

He wasn’t sure.

“Can I just… Can I just hold you in my arms?”

Harry nodded, still stiff, and Draco wrapped his arms around him almost shyly. Harry put his forehead against Draco’s shoulder, closed his burning eyes and hugged back. He felt the heat, the comfort. Perhaps it would be the last time he’d feel that. He needed to savour it. He needed to carve it in his mind.

“You’re going to be fine,” Draco whispered, mouth against his ear, “they’ll cure you and you’re going to be fine. And when you come home, I’ll be there and I’ll be waiting for you even if you don’t want me to or if you never change your mind. I just want you to know that when you’re there, if you’re scared, if you’re lonely… I’m waiting for you, Harry.”

Harry held him and decided he didn’t ever want to let go. His determination to not give Draco a second chance was already weakening.

“It wasn’t alright,” Draco said and Harry had a sad laugh, “it was much more than that. It was everything. Just like it’s always supposed to be,” he put his hands in Harry’s hair, ruffling it, “but then you fell and I thought I was dead too… I thought it was my fault. I couldn’t stand it, what if I had hurt you like that? Was it my fault, Harry?”

“No, of course not!”

Harry took a step back. Draco had tears all over his face, his eyes were red and his lips were shaking. Draco’s heart of ice was melting and it was overflowing. He had the look all lost people have on his face.

Harry couldn’t do anything but take Draco’s face in his hands and wipe his tears, put a lock of his hair back in place. At that moment, he knew he loved him much more than he could imagine because he couldn’t stand to see that much pain on Draco’s face. And his tears seemed to be a promise of love.

He couldn’t just give up on that. It was what he had always wanted to know.

“I want you to wait for me,” he whispered as if he wanted to tell a secret.

Draco kissed him. It was a kiss that tasted like salt, like melting snow, it was a kiss full of hope and recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last heavy angst I promise! I’ve got something new planned for the next chapter, I hope you liked discovering what Draco wrote in his diary! Thank you again for the kudos, comments, bookmarks… You really are the best :)


	19. Shipwreck part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco's diary

It is not of my own accord that I chose to write in this diary. It’s obvious that such a ridiculous idea wouldn’t even have crossed my mind. It’s the Healer I was forced to meet by my mother yesterday who ordered me to keep a diary. She said it’d be the “treatment to heal from myself.” I have no idea what it means. And if I agreed, it’s certainly not because I think I need to be cured. I don’t have a choice, that’s it.

It is also not of her own accord that my mother took me to Healer Johnson. If she could have avoided it, she would have. I could tell because of the way she was squirming in her chair and her mouth was constantly twitching. In the waiting room, she was nervously turning the pages of some magazine, not even looking at me. When our eyes finally crossed, she gave me a fake smile that seemed to say: I swear that if I had a choice, we would both be out of here and doing something worth our time.

But we didn’t have a choice. It was the ultimate condition the Ministry gave. If I wanted to go to Hogwarts, I needed to have Healer Johnson’s approval. And I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything.

I sat down in her office. I was tense, my face sealed. I was waiting. I could already hear her asking questions, _talk to me_ , she would say, _talk to me_. But nothing came. Instead, she sat next to me and asked: “what do you see, Mr Malfoy?” I raised my head, surprised. She was holding a mirror. I wanted to laugh, to tell her wow, is that all you could think about? You really want to know if I’m still able to look at myself in the mirror without flinching?

So I smiled coldly and watched myself intensely. And I think I hoped I would feel less terrible than all the other times I accidentally saw myself in the bathroom’s mirror.

“Just try,” she insisted, “even if what you say doesn’t mean anything, even if it’s confusing and even if you find it stupid. Tell me what you see with your own words.”

What could have I said? Healer Johnson, first of all, there’s my face. Used, old. As if my eyes could never rest, even when I sleep. And my skin, as white as a corpse’s. My mouth, unable to form a genuine smile because I feel so weary. Is that what you want me to say? That I don’t recognize myself?

And so I realized, abruptly, that if she wasn’t asking me directly about the war, it was probably because she already saw everything. And if she gave me that bloody mirror, it was because she wanted me to see it as well. The war is everywhere on my face.

And yet, anyone could say I didn’t lose anyone. My parents are still alive. I don’t miss any of my Death Eater “friends” and especially not Bellatrix. But what about Crabbe? Do I feel sorry for him, burned alive in the Requirement Room? Yes, of course. But the others, how do they manage? Those who lost a parent or both, a brother, a sister, a loved one? What do they look like? And Potter? What do they say to their reflections?

“May I sleep?” I asked.

“Sleep?” she repeated, surprised.

“The couch. May I?”

She put the mirror down with a frown and nodded. I got up, relaxed on the used and cold leather. I closed my eyes. And I thought I didn’t lose my family or my close friends during the war, I just lost myself.

* * *

I never let her open her mouth. Not even to say hello. I enter Healer Johnson’s office, shake her hand and go to the couch. She tries to ask one or two questions but my eyes are already closed. I hear her quill scratching on a parchment, her clock ticking regularly. And it lulls me. One hour of sleep. One hour of peace. Because the nightmares never follow me here…

* * *

Today, when I woke up, disoriented, the jacket I left on the armchair was covering me. I got up, rubbing my eyes, confused.

“You seemed cold,” Healer Johnson explained.

That’s when I noticed, as I got closer to her office, her planning open on the desk. Even upside-down, a name caught my eyes. Harry Potter. Next Wednesday. So, very quickly, I asked her to change my appointments. No, Tuesday didn't suit me anymore but Wednesday did, perfectly actually, yes, it would be best. 3 PM. Yes, really more suitable for me. And that was it.

* * *

I thought it was stupid, writing. Writing what, by the way?

“Dear diary, there are ghosts everywhere in the Manor. And they scare me even more than all of my childhood nightmares reunited. Every time I go to the living-room, I tell myself that’s where Voldemort forced me to torture people and that’s also where Burbage got eaten by Nagini. The blood… the screams… in every single room… Granger crying on the floor.”

“Dear diary, my father looks like a shadow. Part of me is thrilled. The weaker he seems, the more that part of me gloats. He deserved it. That’s what the voice says. It also says: aren’t parents supposed to protect their children? Why didn’t he protect me from this?”

“Dear diary, I know I blame him so I don’t blame myself. I was an adult, wasn’t I? I could have ran away without my parents. And then what? Leave them to die and join Potter? Hide?”

“Dear diary, tonight, when I got to the living-room, Father was looking next to the fireplace. He wasn’t looking at the flames nor at the Daily Prophet on his knees. He was staring at nothing. You know, he hasn’t said a word since the war ended. It seems like he can’t even bear to look at me.”

Yes, it sounded stupid. Boys don’t write in diaries. That’s what I was telling myself. But every time I close it, my fingers still itch like they want to write more.

* * *

 

Why does Potter go to Healer Johnson? Is he also chased by ghosts? Mother told me he let himself be killed in the forest. He moved towards the Dark Lord, then stopped and closed his eyes, waited…

* * *

I arrived an hour early just to be sure I didn’t miss him. When I pushed the waiting room’s door, he was already there, sitting below the window. I could only see his head, hidden by a magazine and his rumpled hair, his large and old clothes…

He threw the magazine on the table and then he noticed me. For a moment, I could only see green.

“What are you doing here?”

The tone was abrupt, rude. So characteristic of him. With his stupid glasses and his stubborn look. He hadn’t said two words later at the café but he was already exhausting me. But as I watched him, I told myself, even after being on the receiving end of a Killing Curse, that git still looked more alive than I did.

And I thought about other stupid things. He looked cute, Potter, when he didn’t open his mouth. And I thought that if he dressed better, actually did something to his hair and threw away his glasses, I could even replace “cute” by something else… He also gave me my wand back. I was so sure he’d tell me to fuck off or laugh at me, I didn’t even know what to say. So, I simply said thank you. For that and you know. And I think he understood. He even smiled behind his cup of coffee. And well, that was rather nice.

* * *

He was waiting for me. Potter.

Yesterday, after the session, he was in the same café, sitting down at the same table. He was pretending to read, watching the street and looking for me. And when I sat down in front of him, he looked like a panicked child caught doing something wrong. And… I don’t know. We talked. We walked. We ate ice cream. It seemed casual but it wasn’t. It’s Potter, for Merlin’s sake. Potter, waiting for me. Me. It was so strange, having things to talk about with him. It was odd that he managed to amuse me with his bluntness, his spontaneity. Definitely odd but not unpleasant. Everywhere I go, I’m despised. People stare at me and point their fingers at me in Diagon Alley, they laugh at me and spit on my shoes. Not with him though. With him, I can be myself again. I feel less old. Less tired.

I don’t know why he waited for me. But I know there are demons, in Potter’s eyes. Terrible anxieties. Mine are nothing next to his.

Besides, when he asked to see me this morning, his hands were so cold I wondered if he had Apparated in Alaska. I didn’t tell him that though. He looked so worried and it wouldn’t have been smart to tell him how abnormally frozen his hands were.

So I tried to change the subject, talked about Quidditch. It worked like a charm. Suddenly, there was a light that wasn’t there before in his eyes. And that was also rather nice. Like the half-smile behind the cup of coffee. He followed me. I was walking quickly so he had to run a bit. He stuck his nose against the showcase, mouth open. He looked like a child again, this time in front of a Christmas decoration. I told him my father promised to buy me a new broom and it was true. I just didn’t tell him that he had found an article from the Daily Prophet advertising the broom and written “it’ll be your present for school” on it before slipping it under my bedroom door. He didn’t need to know that.

In the shop, it seemed he didn’t know where to look. He showed me things, put other stuff in my hands, commented everything, laughed and I think I looked slightly bewildered. Suddenly it was time to go home and I don’t know why exactly but it really pleased me that he didn’t care much about his girlfriend’s present… 

* * *

Healer Johnson told me to leave London and I’m thinking about it. There’s even a crazy idea in my mind. I could go to Guernsey. And I could take Potter with me… Guernsey, with blue houses and icy water, the sand and the small paths leading to beautiful sight spots. I used to go there as a child. I used to cry and beg my parents to let me stay. I loved that island more than anything as a child. It’s the only place on earth I feel completely safe, the only place where I still have good memories. I made my first friends there, looked at shirtless boys running in the water for the first time there as well…

Theo came with me once. The Nott family was on a vacation in Egypt and so he asked if he could come with me. I had never thought I needed a friend instead of a bodyguard like Crabbe and Goyle but that summer, I finally understood. Theo noticed as I stared at boys and shrugged. Theo stayed awake with me when my parents argued all night long. Theo was my best friend and now he won’t even write to me.

* * *

I’m leaving tomorrow. It’s decided. I bought the tickets, sent Potter his own. Yes, I’m taking Potter. I don’t know why. He looked a bit offended when I decided for him. He must have dreamt of something else. Exoticism, a completely different scenery, tropics… Oh well. He’s the one who put his finger on Guernsey, after all. Me, cheating? No way.

Mother wanted to help me pack. She emptied my bag and replaced its content with different clothes. It could get cold, I needed a jumper. It could rain, I needed a jacket. Not this one, the other. And an umbrella. And my potions for the sun. She’s pacing the room, cursing Healer Johnson and many generations after her. I never went to Guernsey alone. What if I got lost? And she kept talking and talking and talking… I bit my tongue to avoid saying anything I would regret.

“Leave him,” Father said.

“Finally you speak!” Mother yelled, hands on her hips. “If you’re taking his side, then you can go back to saying nothing, Lucius, and right away.”

I laughed. And Father looked at me. Truly looked at me. And I thought that when he’d finally do that, I would see disgust in his eyes, deception barely contained. But I didn’t see any of that. Instead, there was some affection and perhaps a little bit of sadness.

“He can’t stay here,” he said, “this house is a tomb.”

“Why don’t you sell the Manor?” I asked.

They looked at each other, slightly embarrassed.

“Who would want it, my love?” Mother answered, hiding her face as she closed my bag.

* * *

I wish I could stop time. But it’s flying towards the open sky, the blue horizons, the sea. I didn’t freak out and cancel the trip. Though I was sure I’d be too scared and stay at the Manor. I would have shrugged and told myself “it’s alright, I’ll go next year. I have time, don’t I?”

Bollocks. I can’t wait anymore. I’ve spent too many days holding my breath, lungs filled with polluted city air. And it made me sick. Are we truly alive, if we hold our breath? Are we alive when every single day is just as grey as the others, as the ones that already passed and were barely lived, already forgotten? I’d rather not know. So, I’m ready. The train is waiting for me.

* * *

Merlin, nothing goes as planned. Oh, it’s not Guernsey. The island is exactly how I thought it’d be, soothing, healing, home.

No, the problem is Potter. I think I fancy him. Maybe just a tiny bit.

Tonight, I abandoned Potter on the beach and left him alone at his campsite. I pretended a sudden desire to shag someone and started to go back to the city. In the declining light, I managed to find the road to get back to my hotel. I got closer and closer but suddenly, I stopped and sat on a rock. And I didn’t move. All I could think about was Potter. Insufferable Potter. With his Muggle tent, his stupid camping and his ridiculous clothes.

Potter, with whom I drank wine and laughed.

Potter, to whom I confessed I was gay. Just like that. I had never even said the word out loud to myself.

Potter, whose anxieties and nightmares upset me just as if there were my own.

Potter, who understands me. Without even trying to.

Potter, who slept with me. I watched him in the darkness. He watched me when we woke up. And I thought he was really close. And really beautiful. And damn, having eyes like his shouldn’t be allowed. And later, on the beach, I was staring at his back, watching his pale skin starting to tan, and I wanted to touch him. To see if he was still cold or if the sun had made him warmer.

Bloody hell, I’d slap myself. Or him for that matter. So he’d be less… less him! Well, fuck, it’s not like he doesn’t have a girlfriend he swore to marry and have three redhead children with, right? Can I throw up now?

Anyway, where was I? Yes, sitting on my rock. I turned back and started running, panicked. I fell head first and now my face is all swollen and bruised, as if I had been beaten up. So I discreetly Apparated to the harbour, sat in a bar and ordered a bottle of wine. I started writing. And now I think I’m a little bit drunk. I want to see Potter in his tent. I could tell him : “Potter, I still want to shag someone. Why can’t I shag you?”

Ha ha.

Shit, I’ll have to explain why my face is all bruised… I can’t tell him I fell like an idiot when I started running, all panicked because I realized I fancied him a lot, can I? I’ll tell him some homophobic wizards hit me or whatever. Straight people love to hit gay men, that’s well known. And he’ll believe me. He believed me when I said I never came to this damn island. Well, that wasn’t really a lie though because everything looks brand new here, different. Happier, more colourful and alive… It can’t be because of Potter, right?

* * *

We’re leaving tomorrow.

We’re leaving tomorrow and Guernsey will mean an entire different thing for me now because in my head, there are two green eyes and a scrawny guy with a childish smile.

We stopped talking about the war because we already said it all or at least, everything that mattered. “Yes, I recognized you. Yes, I sacrificed myself. Yes, it was shit.”

I know a lot of things about him now. He has a diary. He smells like sea and sun at the moment. If it was humanely possible to eat only pastries, he’d do it. He doesn’t like swimming but he’s still quite good at it. He doesn’t like it when people watch him. He has nice hands, small, but really nice. And thanks Merlin, he doesn’t chew his nails. He eats his French fries with his hands and then he wipes them on his jeans. He puts three sugars in his coffee. He doesn’t snore but he sings when he showers. He doesn’t sing that well by the way. Besides, he thinks I can’t hear him but I do. Sometimes, when he puts a shirt on, he sticks his head in the wrong hole. And it’s completely ridiculous. And cute. He gets angry very quickly. He watches me when he thinks I’m looking away and I don’t know what it means. He slept with his girlfriend but apparently, it was rubbish. Thanks Merlin. There might be hope for him… or me… I don’t know. It’s not like I know what I want.

When I look back on the week we just had, it’s exactly the opposite of what I thought it’d be. But I wouldn’t change it for the world. Even the night we ended up soaking wet and cold in the rain. I wouldn’t trade Potter for anyone else and it terrifies me. I don’t want to go home and it terrifies me. I know I’ll miss him. And it terrifies me more than I can imagine.

I don’t want to feel this burst of affection every time he provokes me or does something silly (which happens a lot). I don’t want to. Except I can’t help myself. I even have proof. I bought him a present for his birthday. And it’s appalling.

I’m doing something stupid, I know. I’m starting to feel things when he smiles. And I watch his mouth when he speaks and I think about doing things I shouldn’t even imagine. Sometimes he waves his fingers in front of my eyes as if he wanted to wake me up. But I’m very much awake. Other times, he asks: “what? Is there something on my teeth?” and then cleans them thoroughly with his tongue. The truth was closer to something like this: “no, you don’t have anything on your teeth, I was just imagining all the things you could do with your mouth. And yes, it was rather kinky.”

Yes, I’m in trouble. The one and only rule that all gay men share states that we should never, ever fall in love with straight guys. That’s even more valid when the guy in question is the bloody Chosen One. And let’s not forget my rule: when you start feeling things, you run away and you don’t look back.

* * *

Back to London. I needed to stop somewhere and write, before going home, so I found this small café right next to the station. Yes, I need to write so I can be sure it actually happened. Potter kissed me. He kissed me. And I can’t think anymore. How did I not see it coming? How did I miss the signs? Normally, I see them right away. And now… Nothing.

He was saying goodbye and he was sort of hesitating. But it wasn’t that odd. Not yet. It became odd when his eyes were suddenly the only thing I could see, when I felt his hand on my neck, when his mouth was on mine. At that moment, something just imploded in my head. Everything was disconnected. I didn’t move. I was paralyzed. And he ran away before I could move a toe.

“Young man, you need to go out, now,” the train conductor said when he checked the compartments. And I think, if he hadn’t said anything, I’d still be there, in that wagon, wondering why I didn’t kiss him back.

* * *

He’s freaking out. He has to. He probably regrets. We’ll see each other next week and he’ll tell me he’s sorry, he doesn’t know what came over him, he didn’t mean to do that, we should forget this minute, he has to marry his girlfriend. He’s straight. And I’ll be nice, I’ll help him. I’ll tell him it was nothing, it’s forgotten. Except it’s not true, of course. It’s the only thing I can think of.

I wrote him several letters, threw them all away. They all began with: “Potter, I didn’t kiss you back because…” and I found loads of good reasons.

Potter, I didn’t kiss you back because I’m scared.

Potter, I didn’t kiss you back because one day, you’ll remember what you seem to have forgotten: in real life, I’m a complete git. And Guernsey, you see, isn’t real life. It’s a nice bubble where I can be someone different. A pink and sweet bubble.

Potter, I didn’t kiss you back because you’d never be okay with it. Tell me, back in Hogwarts, what would we do?

Potter, I didn’t kiss you back because you sleep with girls. And as you can probably guess, I have a penis.

Potter, I didn’t kiss you back because if I had started, I never could have stopped.

Potter, I didn’t kiss you back but it doesn’t mean I didn’t want to. I’m just a bit lost. You know, I’m a bit scared to love someone, to trust someone like that. But I think I could love you.

Potter, I didn’t kiss you back because I told myself it would make you look bad. It’ll mess up your superhero act and switch off all the light. Because I’m not a good person. I was on wrong side during the war, I closed my eyes when it got really, really terrible and I tortured people while looking away, just waiting for it to pass. I waited for you to save us all, to save me, when I couldn’t do it myself.

Potter, I didn’t kiss you back because I’ve never kissed anyone before. I shagged unimportant guys, yes, but it didn’t matter and every time, I said I didn’t kiss and bent them over and did my business. Kisses are for people who care for each other. Kissing you would also be like turning the page, erasing everything that happened between us. That’s not so easy to do. You see, it’s stupid but written pages, even badly written, are more reassuring than blank pages…

Potter, I didn’t kiss you back because I have no idea what we’d do. It could have been the beginning of a long trip or a very small escapade. What if there were stops and dark places we’d lose ourselves into? Would you throw me on a platform in a station, all broken and left in pieces?

Potter, I didn’t kiss you back but your lips were so soft. Potter, I didn’t kiss you back but if I had to do it again…

* * *

When I came back to the Manor, I thought I was in the wrong place. Of course, it still looked like _the Manor_ from the outside. Inside though, it was completely different. All the rooms had been moved. The furniture was different, the tapestries as well. Everything seemed clearer.

“What about my bedroom?” I asked, strangled by my mother’s hug.

“It’s in the bottom of the garden,” Father had answered with a blank face.

He was telling the truth and finally, I could have a place away from the ghosts and the screams. But as soon as I was home, I also realized I had been a fool to believe that this holiday in Guernsey could have been something no one would ever hear about. I was just finished unpacking when Father knocked on my door and asked : “What were you doing in Guernsey with Potter?”

A friend of his had been there as well. He had sent a letter to my parents, wondering if they were also on the island. Last thing he wrote was : “Well, forgive me if I’m wrong, Lucius, but the boy with your son looks a lot like Harry Potter.” I didn’t lie. I told him Potter also went to Healer Johnson, we met there and started talking and then we decided to leave together. I also said I didn’t have to justify myself to him.

He called me a fool. He said Potter was using me. Obviously. He said I’d have to be completely stupid and naive to imagine something else. Potter only wanted information against us for the trial. And that was it.

“Why would he want to be you friend?” he added as if everything he already said wasn’t enough.

And it was cruel. The tone, the words, everything. It was so cruel it tore something inside me. There wasn’t any affection in his eyes anymore. Everything was cold. I was staring at him, clenching my fists. Then it all exploded. I yelled at him, I told him he didn’t know anything, he didn’t know Potter. And I said absolutely disgusting things I didn’t mean. I told him it wasn’t a weak man like him that would teach me anything. The worst of cowards. I said, at least, when you’re in Azkaban, I won’t have to put up with your ugly authoritarian face. I also told him that it wasn’t like he ever cared about me, before or after the war. When had he actually been a father to me? When had he done something that was in my interest instead of his?

And I screamed and yelled at him, said he could buy as much tapestries as he wanted but it would never change anything, it would just hide the scars, his damn house would always be a tomb because of him. The tapestries couldn’t hide the blood, the screams, the images of the dead bodies everywhere. It was all his fault, he was the one who immured us alive in here. And that was the truth. It was his fault I had never been more alone, no one ever came to see me anymore, no one wrote to me, not even Theo and Pansy, and that if all he cared about was what I could have said to Potter, he never had to talk to me ever again. And then I ran away.

Back in the Manor, I started feeling terrible. I ran to the bathroom and threw up. I lied on the floor, cheek against the cold, waiting for the nausea to go away. Mother sat down next to me and passed her hand through my hair, slowly, again and again, just like she used to do when I was a child. But it didn’t help.

Since then, Father and I haven’t spoken nor looked at each other all week. And it wasn’t different from before. In fact, it was exactly the same. Except now he knows I’m mad at him. I feel broken and I don’t know which part I’m supposed to pick up first. He’s not even trying to help.

* * *

All of this, it made me think of the war again. It made me think of Theo. He never wanted any part of this and when he asked me to run away with him during our Seventh Year, I could have said yes. I should have.

He couldn’t stand the tortures and the unfairness of it all. Theo wasn’t a bad person, his dad was. For years he told him Muggleborns were vermin and needed to die. I don’t know how he did it exactly but Theo never believed any of this and when the time was right, he disappeared.

And I didn’t go with him when I had the chance.

* * *

I didn’t run towards the couch. It was the first time. I sat in front of her and I talked. Talked, talked, talked. My mouth was dry and my throat was like sandpaper. The words finally came out. I talked about the war, my father, Potter. Everything was mixed up. I don’t think I made any sense at all. Suddenly, I asked for the mirror back and when she gave it to me, I hit it against the wooden desk. The shattered remains fell on my hands.

“That’s what I want to do,” I said, “every time I look in a mirror.” And then I talked some more. I said yes, I blame myself, yes, I would have wanted to make different choices but I can’t change that anymore and I have to live with what I did. And finally, I told her: “If Potter can forgive me, then maybe I can forgive myself, too.”

After that, she watched me for a long time. I was out of breath and my hands were shaking. Healer Johnson took a paper out of her desk and signed it: it was my authorization for Hogwarts.

It also went exactly as I had planned with Potter. At least at first. He told me he was sorry, I said I had forgotten. No surprise. But then I gave him his present and his eyes became teary. He pressed my wrist and he seemed genuinely moved. It got me emotional as well because he was so glad and it was beautiful. It overwhelmed me completely.

So I lied. It just came out of my mouth. I told him that I was going to Italy and that we’d see each other in September. He didn’t even blink. He didn’t realize I was lying. Of course, no one would allow my parents to leave the country before their trial. His face simply darkened and he looked sad.

It was all too much. I was still too sensitive, my nerves were on the verge of exploding and my heart was more exposed than ever. I knew everything was escaping my control. It was now or never. I could have kissed him back at that moment but I didn’t, instead I got up and walked away with my lie weighing on my shoulders. My body in ruins. The mess in my head. A month would be enough for me to detach myself from him. To want to kiss him less and to stop the shipwreck in my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First part of Draco's diary! I had to cut the chapter in two otherwise it would have been too long. I hope you liked being in his head for a while and discovering new things about the story. It was also necessary that Harry learned about all of this while he's in the hospital.  
> PS: no new chapter next week, I will be on a holiday in London! The schedule will go back to normal after that.


	20. Shipwreck part 2

A month. An entire month passed and I didn’t even feel like writing. Not even a single word. It was as if, during these four weeks, I just stopped living, put my head on pause. I think I was just waiting for September 1st.

In my head, I even started calling him Harry. Sometimes, I think of something and I want to tell him about it. I tell myself: this’ll make him laugh or roll his eyes or grin like an idiot.

I wanted to see him. Every Wednesday. And all the other days too. But I refrained myself and to avoid doing some stupid shit like Apparating in Weasley’s home, I read books about Italy. Just in case. He might ask questions about my fake trip. I also bought expensive chianti, delivered at my window. I thought it’d make it real. Lies are useful but they have to be thorough. He might want to know how Milan, Rome or Venice were. What could I tell him?

This past month, I almost forgot what is his face is like when he smiles. I know that’s just what complete absence does. It’s normal.

I’m leaving tomorrow. Hogwarts scares me and sometimes I can’t sleep. It’ll probably be worse than my Sixth Year, I know that. Every one will whisper and be hostile and stare at me. But at least, there will be Harry Potter.

Mother cries a lot lately. I’m going away and the trials are beginning. They talk about it every day now, in the Daily Prophet. Mother says the next time we’ll see each other, it’ll be in a parlor in Azkaban. We wouldn’t be able to touch each other. She speaks about spending Christmas behind bars.

Night starts to fall. From where I’m sitting, I can see everything. The wall outside the Manor, the gates with its black arrows dressed towards the fading sky - and how many reporters behind? The Manor is silent and cold, the garden deserted (it became wilder than ever, no one cares for it anymore). I haven’t seen anything else in a month.

But it’s my last night here. Last one.

* * *

I’m waiting for Harry. I’m waiting and he’s not coming.

He might have changed his mind. Yes, probably. Who would blame him? He must have found his head and put it back on his neck. He must have laughed and visited Ginny Weasley’s bed instead of mine.

He seemed so sure of himself though, back in the train. And I couldn’t resist his eyes nor his mouth. Every word, every look burned me. So, I caught him and kissed him so he’d shut up. Yes, I think it was for that, at first. Except it quickly became something else. It was about touching, kissing, and finally giving in to the desire we both felt. It was everything his last kiss was not.

It was a bit foolish, when I think about it. His arms around me, his body pressed against mine when I spent four weeks persuading myself that I absolutely didn’t care for him and that I was completely able to push away all my feelings. I had my hands in his hair. I wanted to crush him, bite his neck, mark him and hurt him because his absence had been agony to me. He had been gone for a month and I couldn’t stand that it was my own choice.

And now, I’m waiting for him, in my Prefect’s bedroom, and he’s not coming. Perhaps I didn’t give him the note when I tried to slip it in his hand…

* * *

It’s almost 1 o’clock and he’s still not there.

I said an hour. An hour for Merlin’s sake. Not three. What’s he doing?

I’m pacing the room, lying down and getting up, opening a book and throwing it against the wall. Do I really need to go mad before the first day of school?

That evening was hellish anyway. The other students despise me. They’d shit on my face if they could aim that high. Especially the little Creevey, all dull and sickly, with his mean eyes. As if it was my fault his brother died. They can all blame me for everyone’s deaths during their bloody war. I don’t care. I just want my N.E.W.T.S. I don’t need friends.

And Harry is still not coming…

I don’t even know how to explain what it did to me, seeing him all quiet in the train while his friends bickered. He was a little lost in his own head. I had time to prepare myself because I knew I would see him. But it still kicked me hard. Suddenly, my dead eyes could see again. And I felt a little more alive just because he was looking at me with this sort of almost unbearable tenderness. And there was a little light, barely discernable, behind his pupils. His lips were twitching, trying to smile at me.

And the kiss, later… I know, I already wrote about that. But I have to be honest, that kiss was amazing. I’m just trying to forget that he practiced on the Weasley girl. Ugh.

* * *

This year, I predict hell every single day. And no, I’m not exaggerating. The words written on my robes, that was just the beginning of something much more gloomy. I’m trying not to show fear. I’m trying to keep my face blank when they threaten to shave my head. Or something else, I quote. I know they’re all waiting for me to drop my eyes, break down and surrender. But it won’t happen.

I found a piece of parchment folded under my plate during lunch. Letters from the Daily Prophet were glued to a piece of parchment so that it’d look scary and stay anonymous. It was borderline psychopath. It said: “you’ll pay.” Well. I’m not applauding for the originality. I threw it away, laughing, and it landed on Creevey’s head. He didn’t like it. And I don’t care at all even if I’m probably making an enemy. It made the other Slytherins laugh which was something. We all became pariahs in Hogwarts ever since Pansy tried to surrender Potter to Voldemort before the battle. You just had to look at the First Year’s heads under the Sorting Hat. Those who didn’t cry openly and begged the Sorting Hat were probably wondering if we also gave the rope to hang ourselves for free. So we stick together. Zabini is nicer than he used to be.

Anyway, I think I could have heard _anything_ today and it wouldn’t have tarnished my good mood. He came last night. 2 AM and here he was, a little scared but there. He lied down next to me and he smelled like chocolate. He tasted like chocolate. I kissed him and dreamt of it all night.

Merlin, I don’t know what I’m doing. And I don’t know if I like what his kisses do to me. It was like whispering to a sleeping monster. And I know the monster, it’s unpredictable, it doesn’t let itself be tamed. And I don’t want to screw it all up…

His fingers brushed the scar, on my chest, as if he wanted to erase it. He seemed ashamed when he looked at it. I wanted to chase the guilt of his eyes. What I was about to do, that day… It wasn’t any better.

We almost slept together. Not quite but still. There was nothing I wanted more than to let myself slide inside him but I had to stop myself. So soon, it could have scared him, he’s still new to this. And I don’t want to scare him. He already looked like he was discovering everything. And it was perfect anyway.

Pleasure made me lose my mind last night. And then this morning. Because yes, he was still there the morning. He was profoundly asleep, lying on his stomach, an arm beneath his pillow and the other around me. I watched him a long time. My heart was warm.

Later, I invited myself during his shower, in the suffocating heat. His legs shook against mine and he nearly fell over me, muttering inconsistant words until he bit the back of his hand and came on mine. I held him in my arms and waited for him to recover. More sex, less feelings. It was almost reassuring. Almost.

All days should start like that. And end like that as well. By the way, he’ll be there any moment now.

* * *

I’m too drunk to write properly. But I have the right to be drunk. I think. Tonight, I almost drowned and it was cold and disgusting. It hurt a lot. I thought, if I survive this and try to kill myself someday, I’ll cross drowning off my list. Definitely.

I heard their laughs, of course. The sounds of their muffled steps. But I wasn’t really paying attention. I never should have agreed to be a Prefect. I could have avoided the Stunning Charm and the fall into the lake. I couldn’t do anything to defend myself.

They dragged me to the lake, my feet dangling in the mud helplessly. They were still laughing, louder and louder. And then, they dropped me. I had water in my nose, my throat. I was suffocating and I couldn’t even swim. I don’t think I stayed on the surface a long time. I sunk quickly, eyes open but it was dark and I couldn’t see anything. Where were the bloody Merpeople?

But of course, Potter rescued me. He always does that. One debt wasn’t enough. Noooooo. He needed a second one. What am I saying, it’s more like a third or a fourth. I stopped counting. I’m not staying I would have preferred dying. The problem is my ego. So I might have sent him away tonight. He can just fuck off with his worried face and his compassion…

The truth is, he was scared. I saw that. Right after rescuing me, he leant over me and at that moment I hadn’t quite realised I almost died in the lake. I wasn’t breathing when they got me back. He was scared for me. So, what did I do? I yelled at him and I said things I didn’t mean as usual. It was vulgar and cruel. I told him about his suicide, his goddamn forest and he almost slapped me.

I wondered if Harry was going to go away and never come back.

He didn’t. He softened, very quickly, and kissed me.

I remember a discussion we had one night with Harry, back in Guernsey. The sun was setting, still warm and we could hear children laughing all around us on the beach. It was perfect.

He told me he wasn’t scared of dying anymore because of the peace and the silence he had felt in the forest. And then he whispered:

“I could have stayed there, you know. I had a choice. I could have stayed dead if I wanted to. But I came back,” he dropped his head and added: “I hope I did anyway.”

He was staring at his cold hands. And I remember wanting to take them into my own to cover them and make them warm again. I asked him if he regretted his decision, if he wanted to return to that peaceful silence. And he stared at me for a long time, on the corner of his eyes. He smiled.

“Not for a while.”

He stretched, got up and said we were getting too serious.

I _was_ scared. There was water in my throat and in my lungs and I really didn’t care about the peace and the silence of what it could or could not be. I was just scared and in pain. In terrible pain.

So how did he do it? How did he surrender himself to death without yelling and running away? How did he stay so calm and determined? Maybe I’ll never understand him…

* * *

Goddamn Potter.

I want to punch that arsehole. Or put his head in the lake for a bit, so he’d know what it does. For Merlin’s sake. He can’t stop himself, can he? He just had to tell the Headmistress everything. But I told him, promise me you’ll stay out of this and he agreed, he kissed me, cuddled with me in my bed. I trusted him. But he can’t listen to me, he can’t keep a promise, he can’t keep his big Gryffindor mouth shut. I told him, I don’t really know what we’re doing together. I broke up with him and it’s better this way.

Father came to the castle, looking awful, his face completely blank. He ordered me to come home but I said no.

“What are you expecting, Draco? They’ll kill you!”

“Like you care!”

“Don’t behave like a child, you’re too old for this.”

McGonagall came between us, a little uncomfortable.

“For once in his life, your father is right, Mr Malfoy. It would be more reasonable to start receiving lessons by owl. What’s happening at Hogwarts is a little out of control. The war is too recent. And unfortunately, you are the perfect scapegoat.”

She threw a dark look at my father, insinuating: you see, that’s what you’ve done.

“I thought making you Prefect would show my confidence in you and appease tensions. But I was wrong.”

“Then take my badge,” I said, “and my bedroom. But I’m staying.”

I gave my badge and my bedroom back. My father was really mad. One incident, he said, one incident and you’re coming home right away. I nodded so he’d go away. Being a Prefect was boring anyway, no one took my orders seriously.

I packed my things and went back to my old dormitory in the dungeons.

Zabini was there, ready to go to class. He raised his eyebrows. “Already?”

I didn’t answer and groaned as I fell on my old bed. The one I slept in for six years. It felt like being reunited with an old friend.

“What happened?” he asked. “Oh? Draco? You don’t want to tell me anything? You know, what they did to you today, they’ll do to me tomorrow and to Pansy the day after that.”

“They threw me in the lake! Here, you have your answer. Happy now? They Stunned me and threw me in the lake.”

His face got tense. “Who?” he asked.

“Do you really think they showed their faces, Blaise? They’re not that stupid. The wore masks. Masks. Don’t you think that’s sort of poetic? Ironic? Pick what you want.”

“Who’s taking your place?” he asked.

“And the bedroom… It’s McMillan. Can you believe that? A Hufflepuff!”

He winced.

“That’s worse than everything I imagined,” he said, frowning. “Hey, you realize you’re ruining my life coming back here. I was alone before you came back and I could bring all the girls I wanted.”

“You’ve been alone for three days!”

“So what, Draco? A lot can happen in three days.”

I wanted to tell him, you can’t even imagine. In three days, you can almost sleep with Harry Potter. And like it so much. And you can come in his arms so hard you see stars. You can get hard every time he touches you.

In three days, you can get used to someone sleeping next to you. A small hand on your stomach. A nose against your shoulder, breathing calmly. Legs intertwined under the sheets. Waking up from a bad dream without feeling alone. Cover him with your sheets because he looks cold. Finding the bed less big and more comfortable. Having less nightmares. Just because he’s there.

In three days, you can start to imagine it could last. You start to tell yourself, if it’s like that all the time, you were stupid to freak out that much.

In three days, classes can become interesting because you can feel his gaze, all the time. It burns like summer’s sun. And you know what? He even sends little notes during class. Notes that make you smile and roll your eyes and think that this Potter boy is completely stupid but definitely the cutest.

In three days, you can start to learn how to trust him. And get betrayed. You’re an idiot, you give up everything, you crush the dreams that started to float in your mind and curse your imagination because it fooled you. So you tell him it’s over. And you tell yourself it’s okay. He’ll get over it and you’ll get over it, too. You didn’t have time to grow too fond of him in three days. You can’t miss him and it can’t hurt.

You even pretend not to understand why he did what he did. You’re too angry. You don’t know yet that the anger will fade and then, you won’t be so sure of yourself. Not that categoric anymore.

At at moment, you’re so angry at him you tell him it’s over. You’re not made for relationships. You prefer one night stands, less commitment. You sort of believe that. You close your eyes when you notice his trembling voice and red eyes. You turn away. You shut the door like he closed it on you. An eye for an eye.

In three days, you can lose what you thought you had finally won. And tell yourself it’s better like that.

* * *

I woke up and for a few seconds I had forgotten. I had forgotten about the break up.

But it came back right away. I was alone, sprawled in the middle of my bed. There was no one holding my hand. My fingers clutched at the sheets, gripping them tightly. I shut my eyes and sighed.

So, I showered, telling myself that I didn’t care, I slept better without him because he took all the room, he stole the blankets and his cold skin made me shiver.

He was eating his lunch alone, reading without seeing the words. He had dark circles around his eyes. He had such a hard time chewing his food it looked like he was eating concrete. I felt empty again. I apologized (it was terrible, of course) but he didn’t listen. It made me more upset than ever. You were saving my life, he said. What did that arsehole mean by that? I never saved anyone’s life. I did the contrary, several times.

Damn it, I need to focus. Classes. Quidditch. We had our first practice this afternoon and I think, objectively, that we were terrible. Even if my broom is brilliant. But unfortunately, the broom doesn’t do everything. Our Chasers can’t find the goals, our Beaters can’t aim. They almost killed me twice today.

Harry was waiting for me by the lockers. And here I am, speaking of him again. I only speak of him in this joke of a diary and it’s completely pathetic. I must have turned into a maniac and hysterical teenager. But, if we can become friends again, like before, all of this will finally stop eating my brain.

It has to.

* * *

A ball. What are they imagining? That suddenly, we’ll all smile and forget the war? Oh, yeah, what war by the way? After all, dancing, listening to shitty music and drinking pumpkin juice will definitely make me forget all the months spent in the Manor.

The announcement was barely made that already, Pansy was all over me. You’re coming to the ball with me, she said, a possessive arm around me. I let her play the jealous girlfriend. If it makes her happy then she can do whatever she wants.

Why does it matter? _He_ ’ll probably go to the ball with the redhead and they’ll make up while dancing and everything will be so disgusting: I’m sorry. No, Harry, it was me. But no, Ginny, it was me. And then he’ll kiss her and everyone will cheer. He’ll forget me, face pressed into her hair. He’ll forget. That’s what I want.

Is it?

* * *

With all that’s happened, I haven’t even had time to think about being back in Hogwarts without Theo. I still haven’t heard from him, Zabini either. When I see his empty bed, I remember all the nights we spent discussing pranks and trying to create new spells when the others were asleep.

Anyway, that’s in the past. Dwelling on these memories isn’t productive. It’s just that sometimes I miss him and I wonder what we could all have been if there hadn’t been a stupid war. We could have been normal.

* * *

He’ll testify at my mother’s trial. I can’t believe it.

I read my mother’s letter three times this morning and unless I have severe dyslexia, there’s no doubt. I don’t understand why he’s doing this. She saved his life, I know that and I won’t lie, I thought about asking him to save her in return but can he only imagine what he’s agreeing to? The journalists will act like starving raptors and the judges will never understand. He’ll have to talk about it again, explain it, relive it.

I happen to act like a complete moron a lot and I know I’m a selfish prick but even I wouldn’t ask him to do that. I know he doesn’t want to talk about all this, especially to strangers. So, is he doing it for her or for me?

The trial is tomorrow and I need to talk to him but I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how. This week, we only made small talk and our eyes never met.

How are classes? Are you practicing for Quidditch? Great. Have a nice day. So what am I supposed to say? “I really don’t deserve it but thank you for saving my mother?”

“Potter, aren’t you tired of wearing the super-hero tights?”

Don’t think about Potter in tights. Don’t think about Potter’s arse in tights… Don’t!

* * *

Pansy kissed me. What’s wrong with her? She was there tonight, all weepy, talking nonsense: Draco, your poor mother, it’s so unfair, you must be so scared…. And she kissed me.

I was thinking about something else (no, I won’t write about that) and I wasn’t really listening to what she was saying so I didn’t react right away and she took it as an encouragement. When I finally managed to pull back, there was a hickey on my neck!

Great. I have an enormous love bite and I’m supposed to go to my mother’s trial tomorrow. Blaise knows exactly which spell could erase the enormous bruise but that utter arsehole won’t tell me. No, he just laughs every time he looks at me. Great.

And the worst thing was, Pansy was so unhappy afterwards. She was all curled up on herself, almost crying. I had to make her feel better. She wanted to know why I didn’t like her. So I sort of lied. I told her I met someone during the holidays. She said she understood, it wouldn’t change anything, we’d stay friends.

It’s not a real lie. I did meet the real Harry during these holidays. The one who goes on vacation with a Muggle tent and smiles all the time and watches the sea with delight. Ten minutes with him at the lake, that’s all it took to make me realize how much I miss him.

* * *

He loves me.

He loves me, he loves me, he loves me.

* * *

He can’t love me. He can’t because it’s me. ME. Me, my wand pointed right at Dumbledore. Dumbledore Disarmed. And Dumbledore dead on the floor, dead because of me. And me, sitting at the monster’s table, eyes closed. Me, me, me…

How can he possibly love me? He’s lost his mind, that’s all. He speaks about the odd cold that hurts him, about his soul and my own and it doesn’t make any sense. He yells, says that he loves me in the middle of the street and he must be mad. A complete nutter. I did the right thing, telling him to leave me alone. Of course I did.

But I understand. He’s still a bit upset because of the trial. And the tears he kept inside and suddenly couldn’t hold back. His brain is upside down and he’s confused. But I _know_. I know that for the both of us and I’m holding on to it like a life buoy so we don’t drift too far towards the open sea. Harry and I, we’re just two shipwrecked men holding on to the same raft. That’s it.

He can’t love me.

* * *

What have I done? Why am I so stupid?

* * *

Pansy worries. I felt her eyes on me this afternoon in the middle of an important Transfiguration written exam when I closed my eyes and put my quill down. She frowned and then she must have decided that it was my fault, after all, if I messed up my future. She kept writing and writing with the energy I put every day in watching me disappear. The teacher sighed and picked up my copy - too white, too empty - and I got up, walked towards the lake, broom on my shoulder.

So tonight, I was interrogated.

“Is it because of the girl? The one you met this summer?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Is it about your father’s trial? I don’t mean to be rude but you had to know that he was going to be condemned, right? After all, your mother didn’t kill anyone… but him? So, five years, I know it seems long now but if you think about it, you’ll realize he’ll still be young when he gets out. And you too, Draco. He’ll be there when you get married and have children…”

I laughed, nose hidden in my plate. My father’s sentence, given yesterday, left me strangely empty and cold despite my mother’s devastated letter.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“You don’t want to get married?”

“No. And I don’t want children.”

“You say that now…”

“I say that now and I’ll say that in five, ten, twenty years. But the funniest thing is that you think my father wants to get out of prison to see me getting married, having kids and so on. You should have said: in five years, he can go back to his empty Manor, imagine being someone important and depress while crying about his lost greatness and be constantly disappointed that I’m not the son he wanted…. Stop watching me like I’m sick, Pansy.”

She put her hand on my forehead.

“You don’t even have a fever.”

Since I didn’t have a fever, she put several mode magazines under my nose.

“What do you think, Draco? I like the purple one but I’m not sure I like the lace. And what about this one? Nice fabric. But it’s way too revealing, don’t you think? So, perhaps the white one. But I hate the sleeves, it doubles my arms’ volume.”

“At least.”

She sighed.

“Remind me why we have to dress like Muggles?”

“To show people that we like them,” I answered, a bit distracted, turning the pages and seeing ugly dress after ugly dress. “And that we don’t want to exterminate them.”

“What will you wear?”

“I have a very sexy grey suit.”

“So, I might take the black one. If I wear a dress too colourful, we’ll be too different.”

“And you know what people say, black makes you look thinner.”

“Arsehole!”

A severe look on her face and a bit offended, she hit me with her magazine and I pretended to restyle my hair. Sat at the Gryffindor table, Harry was watching me. His eyes seemed off, two little dead suns, millions light years from me. Was the cold even up there in his eyes? My lips, slowly, already started to form the words.

 _Sorry_.

Sorry to be such a dick. Sorry that I never think. Sorry I didn’t believe you. Sorry I don’t trust you enough.

But, a few seats on the left, that prick Creevey was watching us like he understood. Harry looked back to his plate and Pansy snapped her fingers in front of my eyes.

“Earth to Draco, Earth to Draco!”

* * *

1) My Herbology textbook. Missing last morning and found two hours later, ten pages ripped and obscene doodles everywhere. On the cover, Draco had been replaced by Dickhead. Very smart.

2) My scarf, the grey one in cashmere. When Filch gave it back to me during lunch, it was ripped in two. Everyone at the Gryffindor table burst out laughing. Indeed, very funny.

3) My Transfiguration paper, just finished and brilliant. Almost all of my potions ingredients. Pansy thinks she found some in the girl’s bathroom on the second floor.

4) All of my clothes after Quidditch practise. No comment.

I think I’m becoming mad. I count and check everything three, four, even five times. Of course, I bet it’s just a twisted and jubilant game to them and each morning, they decide who steals what to Malfoy. I’m tired of it.

Tonight, after dinner, I went back to the library. It was the last place I remembered having my Transfiguration homework with me. I was on the floor, searching under a table when I noticed Luna Lovegood on the other side of the table, on her knees too.

“What are we looking for?” she asked.

“ _We_ are not looking for anything.”

She sat under the table, legs folded under her. The top of her head was uncomfortably stuck against the wood.

“Are we hiding, then?”

“No, we’re not hiding either. We… I mean, I lost something.”

“Something important?”

“Let’s just say that if I don’t find it, my grades will definitely be dropping to abysmal levels.”

“Oh, so people also steal your stuff?”

“Yep.”

Then, she showed me her two shoes, sandals with bright yellow flowers. Even though it’s raining almost every day now. Underneath, to avoid being cold I suppose, she wore socks. They were turquoise.

“They steal my shoes. Every year.”

 _Merlin_ , I thought, _my life is becoming so strange_.

“Did you check beneath all the tables?” she asked.

“Why do you want to help me?”

“You brought us food.”

I frowned. “What?”

“Back in the Manor. When we were locked in the dungeons with Dean and Mr Ollivander, you brought us food almost every night. And you kept looking behind you as if you were afraid of getting caught. Besides, I heard Pettrigrew muttering one day, he said that we shouldn’t be that healthy with the moldy bread he gave us every morning. So you weren’t really supposed to feed us, were you?”

She had a dreamy smile on her lips.

“Oh, er…” I scratched the top of my head, unable to provide a better answer.

“So, did you check all the tables?” she asked again.

And she helped me look. We absolutely didn’t find anything but I don’t think it really matters that much anymore.

* * *

I just had the most peculiar night.

Let’s skip the fact that Potter came to the Great Hall, more handsome than ever, and without a date. Let’s skip the fact that he couldn’t even seem happy even though every one was having fun. Even me. Let’s skip the terrible music. And let’s skip, yes, we have to, the dreadful dress Pansy wore. Let’s skip the Firewhisky Potter drank just like water despite the fact that he never drinks. Let’s skip the loathsome slow he danced with his former girlfriend. I was sure she’d come when I heard the romantic song and claim him as her own. Potter almost seemed happy at first. His hands were on her waist and his nose hidden in her hair but he opened his eyes and he watched me until the end of the song. I saw everything I needed to see. How much he missed me. The desire, the loneliness, the pain. So let’s skip the moment when she tried to kiss him. The moment I wanted to break my glass and throw it at her. Me, jealous?

Let’s skip Harry’s awful speech. It was a sort of uninterrupted flow of drunken words and “shits” with some sincere moments. There’s only Potter who can do this sort of thing. And I have to give him that, he knows how to speak of the dead. And he also knows how to defend me.

Oh, yes, I almost forgot, let’s skip Creevey.

I found Harry outside, after that, throwing up, shaking, he couldn’t hold back his tears. He spent months doing that, holding back, hiding. A little more and he would have drowned. His sobs… Merlin, it was terrible and low, hoarse, painful. I wanted to kiss them away so I’d never hear them ever again.

I locked him inside my arms and waited for him to stop fighting me, a hand against his neck. He smelled of everything I missed, Quidditch and citrus (that was his soap if I recall correctly), sweets… At that moment, my only fear was letting him go.

We ended up sitting on the cold and damp floor, his legs against mine. He loosened his tie with a sigh and it seemed he was taking away heavy and oppressing chains. He wanted another drink, and another, and, Firewhisky helping, he started becoming less and less coherent. He was half asleep, head on my shoulder. The angle of his neck seemed painful, even from where I was. I would have stayed there as long as he needed but anyone could’ve come out and seen us. Neither of us were ready for that.

So, I looked for Granger. And that, frankly, was the idea of the century…

“What have you done to him!” she said, horrified, when I took her to the empty classroom in which I had hidden Harry.

“Me? Nothing, Granger. He’s a big boy, he did that to himself.”

Of course, she didn’t give me their dorm’s password because she didn’t trust me with it and she wanted to come with us and see with her own eyes that he was feeling as good as he possible given the circumstances. She also wanted to be sure I wasn’t going to kill him on the way to the Gryffindor common room.

I pushed the empty classroom’s door and he was still there, sleepy, head hidden in his arms. I shook him a little bit and he raised his eyes, still swollen and red.

“Where’ve you been?” he muttered grumpily.

His hand searched for mine until he found it and, with a smile, he put his head against my chest. He stayed there, motionless, eyes closed and breathing slowly. Granger was outside the classroom, eyes wide in surprise and I felt like laughing because her astonished face was worth getting her here. Well, Miss Know-it-all hadn’t seen that one coming, hadn't she?

I pressed Harry’s shoulder and he groaned:

“What?”

“I brought Gran… Hermione here and we’ll bring you back to your bed, alright?”

“I can’t really walk…” he muttered, without looking at Granger. “I can’t even keep my head up, everything just moves so much. And my stomach is ruined. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat again in my entire life…”

“Bollocks. Come on, Harry, get up.”

I helped him stand up and he let me hold him. I firmly took his left arm and passed it around my shoulder while Granger did the same, puzzled. I could almost hear her think.

We passed the door and ended up in the corridor.

“Hermione, you’re there?” Harry said, surprised.

“Yes, Harry, I’m here.”

“I think I drank a little bit too much…”

“I think so too,” she agreed, very softly.

“It’s because of the speech, Hermione. You see, it made me think of them. My parents. Did I tell you I saw them, in the forest? Before Voldemort killed me? And they said they were proud of me…”

He laughed. I felt his fingers shaking on my neck.

“What a joke! Proud of what? And Teddy, he’ll never have parents either, just like me. And can you imagine that, Hermione? I think that’s it, there are more dead people in my life than alive ones… I think I’m going to throw up…”

“We’re almost there, Harry. Keep your mouth closed, breathe through your nose and everything will be fine.”

Mute, Granger was watching Harry, a terrible pain in her eyes.

“But the living count, Harry,” she started, “there’s me, Ron and…”

“Draco,” he added.

I dropped my eyes and watched the floor for a moment, cheeks burning.

“And Draco, of course,” she repeated in a very small voice.

Once we were in the common room (so red, so warm), we helped him climb the stairs to his dorm. He collapsed on his bed, whimpering. There was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead and upper lip. His moist hand searched for mine again. Granger was gone. I sat on the edge of the bed.

“You didn’t believe me, did you?” he whispered while playing with my fingers. “The day I told you I loved you, after the trial. You didn’t believe me.”

“No. Not really.”

I kneeled by the bed so that my face was at the same height as his. He looked sleepy when he kissed the palm of my hand, again and again.

“It was true though. It still is. If only you knew how much I miss you…”

It was just a whisper. His eyes were closing. I took off his shoes, tie and spectacles and carefully laid them on the nightstand, right next to his parent’s picture. James and Lily Potter were smiling and waving to nothing, faded and unreal. I sighed and removed a few locks of hair on Harry’s forehead and kissed his lightning scar very briefly. I felt the paper eyes on me. Yes, I’m kissing your son, so what?

I watched Harry sleep peacefully and I said to myself: “is this what you’re so afraid of, you moron? Of this sleeping boy, wrapped in his own grief? In his own fragility? Look at him. Is he that scary?”

I realised he wasn’t. I had simply been a git, as usual.

I went back to the Gryffindor common room and Granger was still there, sat in the couch near the fire.

“Is he asleep?”

I nodded, hands hidden in my trousers’ pockets.

“Is there… something I should know about? Draco?”

“No. Nothing that concerns you.”

She sighed but without animosity.

“As you wish. I don’t exactly know what I saw tonight even if I’m starting to guess. And it surprises me much more than I care to admit and I’m not sure I understand. But whatever’s going on, Draco, I won’t judge, I just… Don’t hurt him, please.”

“I’m trying…”

I think these words were more for myself than for her.

* * *

I shouldn’t write when everything’s alright, should I? No, that’s not what a diary’s for. And I believe I’m alright, or at least I’m getting there and that’s why I haven’t really been writing since the bal.

I could have. I could have written and written and written. I could have written about the time I caught his hand near the lake one afternoon. It took me some time and more courage than I ever thought I had but I took his hand and I kept it inside mine. It wasn’t that hard.

I could have added that I kissed him on the corner of the mouth, that night, and almost every other night since then. Despite the frustration he didn’t even try to hide. Despite my own. Despite his eyes turning towards me, begging me. Despite the desire inside him. Despite my agitated nights without him.

I didn’t surrender because this thing that we are at the moment is too unstable. I can still feel the shakings and the hesitations. And if we’re not careful enough, we could fall down again and this time, I’m not sure we’ll be able to get back together.

Yes, I could have written about all of this. Every non-kiss, every look we exchanged, every tease, every laugh, every small gesture towards each other. But it would’ve had no use because I’m better now.

* * *

Maybe… Maybe if I write it down, it’ll stop being true. Or maybe it’ll become too true. I don’t know. He died. _Died_. And it shouldn’t have happen that way, ended that way. Not after that afternoon we spent in Grimmauld Place. The moments we had there, they felt like someone else’s, like a dream of another life I had again and again. No, it should never have finished that way. Not after his legs spreading so willingly for me, his hands shaking against my back, his face drowned in pleasure.

But we came back to Hogwarts and it just had to be ruined. He looked so pale and sick all of a sudden. And then he fell in the corridor like a dislocated doll. I got on my knees as well just as soon as he touched the floor and when I turned his cold body, his lips were blue, his face blank and his eyes wide open. Empty, empty, empty eyes.

I placed my hand over his mouth, my ear on his chest and there was nothing. Not a single sound. He was dead. I was shaking, I couldn’t breathe and the elf couldn’t stop screaming next to me! What should I do, I thought. I couldn’t leave him there in the corridor to get someone, I couldn’t leave him alone with his blind eyes and motionless heart, his iced body hard as stone. So I told the elf to get Madam Pomfrey as quickly as he could and I pulled Harry in my arms and held him tightly. I closed his eyes, unable to bear the dull green that would never brighten ever again. And I spoke to him.

 _I love you. I love you. I love you,_ I said over and over. _Harry, wake up, please._

I whispered it against his hair and in the middle of the burning tears trickling on his forehead. My tears. I repeated the words until strong hands tried to take him away from me. I held him tighter, nose hidden in the cold neck that still smelled like him. Perhaps he could hear me. Perhaps he wasn’t really gone….

“Mr Malfoy, you need to let go of him if you want me to help him. Let him go…”

And I did. I hunched myself against the wall like a scared child. I didn’t want to look at him.

“Come on, Harry…” Madam Pomfrey was saying. “You need to come back now… Come on…”

I plugged my ears.

I had never taken him seriously. That cold he felt and that he used to speak about with so much worry. I made fun of him. It’s in your head, Harry. That’s what I said, just like everyone else.

And now…

Madam Pomfrey was whispering complicated spells, wand directed towards his heart. Harry’s body seemed to have seizures in the darkness but his head kept falling back on the hard stone. I wanted someone to slap me, make me pay for not believing him. For not listening to him.

“He’s breathing,” Madam Pomfrey finally said, wiping her forehead with her arm.

He’s breathing. She turned towards me and I started breathing again as well.

* * *

I stayed by his side all night, exhausted and terrified. I never let go of his hand. I was unable to forget all of the conversation I just had with Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall.

“Where were you? London? Impossible, Mr Malfoy! You heard what Madam Pomfrey said, his body had the temperature of a Muggle skier trapped under an avalanche! So stop taking me for a fool! Where did you take him?”

“Don’t use that tone, Mr Malfoy! I know you’re shocked but still, I’m your Headmistress!”

“Stop asking for Veritaserum, we will not use it on you! Why not? Because it’s illegal, that’s why! Of course it’s a sufficient reason!”

“Very well, very well. Let’s assume I believe you. So, you were in London. Where in London? You can’t tell me? I hope that’s a joke!”

“Grimmauld Place?”

“You want us to be able to help him, yes or no? So explain what in the name of Merlin you were doing in Grimmauld Place when you were supposed to be in Hogsmeade with the others! Look at me and answer!”

“Draco Malfoy, you will not get out of this room before you tell me, I can promise you that. You’re not doing it for us, you’re doing it for him.”

“Oh.”

I remember this “oh” half surprised, half embarrassed. And perhaps a little incredulous. I must say I dropped the bomb with all the spite I could manage: “With Harry, we wanted to shag somewhere quiet. So we Apparated in Grimmauld Place and we shagged. Then, we went back to the castle and he fell. That’s it. You know everything.”

It was wrong, of course. It wasn’t everything, it was just the tiny part of a nightmare. There had been, before that, a sacrifice deep inside the Forbidden Forest chasing Harry every day like a curse. And there had been months of signs that no one had paid attention to.

“He’s not getting warmer,” Madam Pomfrey said later when she checked his temperature.

I was sitting next to the bed, unable to tear my eyes from Harry’s pale skin, almost translucent, his bluish veins.

“He used to tell me that he never felt cold when he was with me,” I whispered.

“Really?” she hesitated. “Take his hand back.”

I haven’t let go of him since.

Madam Pomfrey came and went, noted all of Harry’s symptoms, the tests she ran with their results and what they implied. She looked ten years older. I couldn’t move, my fingers were tense around the stiff hand who had touched me and grabbed me, nails uncomfortably pressed in my flesh just a few hours later.

It took time. Seconds that lasted hours and hours that stretched to infinity until his skin began to get warmer and his cheeks and lips started to gain colors. My heat was feeding him. And I owed him that, me the fool. Me, who thought making love would make us _more_ alive…

Madam Pomfrey sat next to me a bit later. What time it was, I had no idea. The infirmary seemed like another world without a clock. Everything had stopped around me, I had eyes only for Harry.

She explained, searching her words with care, with a gentleness that didn’t help me feel better. She said his body couldn’t regulate anything like a healthy person’s body would. It was getting harder and harder for him to fight against winter’s cold and that’s why he searched for it in other places, in me. Only… It had been too much in Grimmauld Place.

I stared at the floor. I swallowed back the lump in my throat and I didn’t open my mouth to answer, not once. Deep down, I had already understood… I had been the one who killed him.

I started to feel sleepy and I had nothing left to do but wait and hope. I got into bed next to him, my hand touched the eyes I had closed a few hours ago. As I watched him sleep, I made a decision.

“Have you seen what I did to you?” I whispered, following the contours of his jaw. “Even though I thought I was loving you? Have you seen?”

I leaned over him and kissed his dry lips very softly.

“When you wake up, Harry, you’ll certainly come looking for me. I’m sure of it. You’ll want me to reassure you, to tell you about what happened, to say that everything will be alright and that I’ll be there for you. I can’t. Don’t be too angry, please, when I’ll do what I have to do to keep you away. It’s not that I want to, I promise. But what happened tonight, it can’t ever happen again. Who knows if you’ll come back this time? Harry, I can’t watch you die anymore, I can’t.”

I held him in my arms and listened to the sound of his heart, beating regularly. That was a sound I would never get tired of hearing.

“Do you understand?”

I smiled in the darkness. Sadly. I knew he would never understand.

* * *

I spent the day surrounded by dark clouds. I didn’t leave my dormitory, didn’t leave my bed. I stayed hidden under the warm blankets cutting me away from the world, my head under my pillow and the curtains drawn back to stop the light from coming in.

“What’s wrong with you?” Zabini asked when he came back from class. “Did you at least shower?”

“No,” I groaned as he opened my curtains forcefully.

“I brought you toasts. When’s the last time you ate something?”

“Yesterday.”

“Granger asked me to tell you that Potter opened his eyes this afternoon.”

I threw my pillow at him. “Is that it?”

“Yes, that’s all she said. What’s wrong with him anyway?”

“Not your concern, Zabini.”

His face immediately shut. He took back the toasts, crushed them between his fingers and threw the crumbs on my bed.

“Now, if you want to eat, get up. I was trying to be nice, you arsehole. And I’m doing you another favour now because you definitely can’t stay in bed all day, Draco. I know that we haven’t been the close friends we used to be ever since Theo left but don’t you see I’m trying to get back to that? You’re not the only one lonely and misunderstood! You and me, we’re on the same boat and we’re not letting it sink, okay? Don’t you get that?”

“Yes, I do, Blaise, of course I do. But I can’t tell you about Potter.”

“Why not?”

“Even his own friends don’t know…”

* * *

I don’t know how he found me but suddenly he was there in the Requirement Room. He was thinner and paler than ever but he was alive and still handsome. It was him just like before, when everything was well…

Yet, I did what I had sworn to do. I resuscitated the mean Draco, put back my used git skin on my hunched shoulders. I yelled at him, told him to leave me, threw everything away, his love and mine with a violence that roared deep inside me. And I regretted it the moment I said these things and I forced myself not to run after him when he left.

But now? Now that I don’t have any alcohol in my blood and that the sun is rising? He’s going away to St Mungo’s in a couple of hours and I can’t let him go without doing anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! That was a long chapter, I hope it made up for the week I was gone. This chapter was still a bit angsty towards the end because Draco wrote about what happened in chapter 17 but hopefully it wasn’t too much.  
> I went to London, visited the Harry Potter studios and I even got to see the Cursed Child theater! Though we didn’t have any tickets so we couldn’t actually see the play but we’ll try again this summer and hopefully this time it’ll work out. A friend of mine vlogged everything so if you want to see what the studios look like or what Butterbeer tastes like, let me know I'll give you the link to her channel!  
> Thanks for reading, leaving kudos and comments, you are truly the best! Next chapter we're back with Harry in St Mungo's!


	21. Disappear

Harry was packing his rucksack again. He had emptied it three weeks ago when he arrived in his hospital room and back then he had taken the time to fold and sort everything neatly. But today he was throwing his clothes in the rucksack haphazardly without paying attention to what he was doing. After all, Harry was messy.

On the wall, dozens of drawings were decorating the room. Sick children had seen him a lot and given him these presents because his room was right next to their wing and he liked to spend time with them. One morning, he had told them to imagine Hogwarts and draw the school as they thought it would be. The little witches and wizards had a very peculiar way of picturing the school but it made them happy to think about a future far away from St Mungo’s. He took them off with care and put them in his rucksack.

He had also brought his parents’ photo with him and had placed it on his bedside table. He had thought he might need their courage while he was in the hospital. He blew softly on the photo and tiny dust particles flew in the air. James Potter sneezed violently and almost lost his glasses.

“Serves you right,” Harry said, amused. “You could have told me he kissed me the night of the ball. Yes, I know, you don’t speak. And I also know that parents usually don’t want to know anything about their child’s love life…”

Harry hid the photo in Draco’s diary and decided to hide it in the bottom of his rucksack so it would be perfectly safe. The two items were probably the most precious things he owned. Even though the diary wouldn’t be his for much longer now.

He also recovered a few socks he found under his bed and threw them in his rucksack. Satisfied, he closed it and put his jacket on. He turned around and allowed himself to give one last look in his room. It seemed stripped and blank now that all his pictures and clothes were gone. It reminded him of his first day and of the fear he had felt when he had arrived in this impersonal room.

It was now nothing more than a hospital room, a sad and desolate room with white walls and a tiny window. The only colour came from the flowers Molly had brought when she had visited him a few days ago. He left them in the room, glad that they could be of some joy to the next person who would live in his room.

He had almost forgotten about the sweets in his bedside table’s drawer; he took them and put them away in a pocket of his rucksack. Finally, he left the room with light steps.

Here on the fourth floor (Spell Damage), the Healers’ green robes had become familiar. The cries of pain and constant movement had been less easy to get used to. During his three weeks there, Harry hadn’t needed a watch or an alarm clock. Time flew but the days were always the same.

His bedroom door opened each morning at the same time, way too early to Harry’s liking. The nurse gave him his potions (one blue and one green) and she checked his body temperature. The meals were at the same hour each day and at night, the lights were turned off at precisely midnight.

Every night, a nurse called Amy came to check on him but often stayed right outside the bedroom when she saw that he was alright. More often than not, he was already asleep when she came but sometimes, half awake, he could feel her slowly taking Draco’s diary from his grasp and putting it on the bedside table.

Amy saw him in the hallway. A young boy was crying in her lap and she was rubbing his back, trying to comfort him.

“He refuses to go home,” she groaned, “and I’ve been here since… oh well, yesterday apparently. Young Mr Robbers thinks his hands will fall again once he leaves the hospital.”

Harry smiled sympathetically and offered the boy some of his sweets. He seemed to feel better and stopped crying at least. Amy thanked Harry silently and yawned.

“So, are you ready? Healer Nelson is waiting for you in his office. Last recommendations before you leave.”

“He must be relieved, right? I think he stopped sleeping ever since I showed up.”

Amy nodded. “Powerlessness is the worst thing that exists for a Healer.”

“I’m perfectly okay though. Not dying anymore at least.”

“You know that’s not what I meant. He wished he could have done more. Seeing you leave with thousands of different potions isn’t exactly what he dreamed of.”

“But I _can_ leave. That’s already something.”

“So it’s true?” Amy said, hands on her hips. “You really don’t like us anymore?”

“No,” he said, smiling. “I don’t even know if I liked you once. I think you all treated me very badly during these past three weeks. I’ll even leave a complaint.”

A door opened behind Harry and a pale and skinny teenager emerged from his room. The dark circles around his eyes looked like bruises from a fight and he seemed to stand with difficulty. Harry tried not to look too alarmed by the way he looked.

“Thomas, go back to bed immediately!” Amy scolded.

“You’re leaving?” Thomas asked, ignoring the nurse’s oder.

He was staring at Harry, bitterness in his eyes and disappointment written all over his face.

“Yes but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye, I promise,” Harry answered.

Thomas, breathless, sat in one of the chairs in the hallway, head on the wall and eyes closed.

“Five minutes, no more,” Amy said while pressing Harry’s shoulder so that he would make sure Thomas would go back to his room soon.

She walked away with the crying boy still in her arms.

“I don’t think I have that long,” Thomas joked.

“Hey!” Harry said, sitting down next to him. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten our rule?”

“Which one?”

“Number 3. Stop wallowing in self-pity…”

“And think positively…” Thomas added, frowning. “You speak like a therapist. And it’s not a compliment. So, are you healed?”

“As much as I can be, yeah.”

“They still don’t know what you’ve got?”

“It’s not that they don’t know what I have,” Harry answered, shrugging. “It’s just that they don’t know how to cure it definitively.”

“Why are they letting you go then? No, don’t say anything, let me guess. They gave you a whole bunch of potions to take every day, right?”

Harry nodded. “They keep my body at a correct temperature. So it’s not a bad thing.”

“And what about the side effects?”

Harry sighed. His shoulders dropped and he passed a hand over his face.

"Quite awful but I can live with it. On the other hand, I can’t live without the potions. So the choice is easy enough.”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I just want to stop taking them and fall asleep quietly.”

“Fall asleep forever, you mean,” Harry growled.

“It’ll be just like disappearing… Who would notice?”

“Thomas, you’re scaring me.”

Thomas sat up straighter and put his hand on Harry’s shoulder so he would look at him.

“Potions are nothing more than a reprieve. They anesthetize the pain and hide it. Yet if you dig a little bit, the sickness is still there, is it not?”

“Maybe. But I’ll take the reprieve any day.”

“That’s probably because your internal organs aren’t failing…”

Harry frowned. “What’s wrong, Thomas?”

“It’s just odd to see you leave. It makes me want to leave this place as well except I can’t. Just look at me! I get up and I’m already out of breath. Fucking war…” He sighed. “And you were a cool neighbour, you know.”

“Maybe your next neighbour will be a girl,” Harry answered, elbowing Thomas.

“Yeah, as if a girl would want this,” Thomas said, looking at his skinny and frail body.

“You’re stupid and you forgot rule 10! We are models.”

“You just made up rule 10!”

Thomas raised his eyes while Harry rose, tapping his neighbour’s shoulder. He felt the bones under his hand and noticed how much he had lost weight. His skin was so pale he could also see all of his veins. Harry got scared suddenly. What if, next Monday…?

“Come on,” he said, clearing his throat. “I have to go. Healer Nelson wants to see me before I leave. I think he might cry of happiness, I should bring tissues.”

Harry pretended to search in his pockets. He wanted to do something with his hands to keep them busy.

“You’ll write?”

“I’ll do even better,” Harry answered, retrieving his rucksack. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Thomas smiled.

* * *

“Ah, Harry. Sit down, sit down.”

Harry dropped his rucksack on the floor and sat in the leather armchair while Healer Nelson gathered several parchments on his desk. With short grey hair and thick eyebrows, the Healer seemed gentle and kind even after years spent working on terrible diseases and surrounded by death.

“Have you got your potions for the week? Yes? Good. And did you take your next appointment?”

“Yes, on Monday.”

“Perfect. We’ll adjust the treatment if necessary but if you feel anything odd before then, anything at all, cold hands, abnormal shivers, numbness, you come back right away! Day or night, it doesn’t matter. As you may have noticed, this place is always swarming. However, if you feel cold outside, I can assure you it’s normal!”

He smiled and joined his hands over his desk, trying to look reassuring. “I believe your nurse explained there might be side effects? Fatigue, loss of appetite, nausea, vomiting, dizziness?”

“Already have all of that,” Harry answered.

“It’ll be over in a few weeks,” Healer Nelson said, taking off his glasses to rub his eyes. “The potions are quite strong and your body needs time to adjust. I’m not going to lie though, it’s going to be difficult. And if those unpleasant side effects were to last, you know there’s always the other solution.”

“Don’t even think about it!” Harry retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I already told you no a hundred times and my answer hasn’t changed.”

“I still don’t understand why you won’t give it a chance!”

“Because your other solution is completely experimental, here’s why. And because each time I ask for some assurances, you can’t give them to me. I refuse to hurt someone in order to get better.”

“I could talk with Mr Malfoy…”

“No.”

His tone was so harsh and definitive that Healer Nelson didn’t insist.

“In any case, if you don’t have questions, you’re free to go. You must be anxious to finally get out of here, right?”

Harry nodded and bit his lip. He didn’t want to ask that question but he needed to know.

“Is… Is Thomas going to die?”

Healer Nelson dropped his head and sighed.

“It’s possible, yes,” he confessed carefully. “As you may know, he’s very ill and while we are trying to do everything in our power to save him, many curses have been created during the War and so far we haven’t been able to find how to cure this one in particular.”

“Is it because he’s a Squib?”

“I don’t think so. It’s simply very dark magic, Harry. So dark it’s very difficult to study, very difficult to cure.”

“Goddam war.”

“Yes, Harry. Goddam war.”

* * *

Just as Harry closed the door on his way out of Healer Nelson’s office, Amy gestured at him and told him to come see her.

“A nurse from the reception was just here, looking for you,” she explained, pointing her finger at the Floo. “Someone came to pick you up.”

“Really?” Harry answered, surprised. “Who?”

“She talked about a young man with a nice suit, very handsome. Can I come down with you?”

Harry rolled his eyes and Amy hugged him briefly.

“Isn’t that against the rules? Hugging a patient?”

“You’re no longer my patient. Now, get out. I don’t want to see you here anymore.”

Harry was more than happy to obey. He ran to the Floo, rucksack pressed to his stomach in the flames. He kept it that way so that his hands wouldn’t touch his heart because he was scared to see how fast it was beating.

He was impatient yet he still felt apprehension.

He hadn’t seen Draco in three weeks. Of course, they had written to each other daily: every single morning, he had heard Draco’s beautiful owl tapping at his window. But the letters were clumsy and the words borrowed.

Instead of asking, _“have you read my diary?”_ Draco talked about Quidditch practice, his routine, homework and classes, Hermione following him around and asking him thousands of questions. “What’s wrong with him? Why isn’t he coming home? Tell him to write to us or I’ll send him a Howler!”

Instead of asking, _“and now that I know that you love me too, what do we do?”_ Harry talked about St Mungo’s. The children asking for stories, laughing, arguing to be the one sitting down next to him in his bed. The way they all looked so thin in their hospital gowns and sick but never complained and seemed to find everything so interesting. In their eyes, he saw himself as a hero and never as a sick boy with the same hospital gown as them.

It had reassured him during his tough beginning in the hospital when he had understood that the only things that kept him from dying were two vials of potions.

He hadn’t told that to anyone though. Not to Draco and not to Ron and Hermione when he finally talked to them through the Floo. He hadn’t even mentioned it in his diary but then again, he hadn’t touched it for months. It would have been too difficult to write the truth. _Yes, I’m scared to die slowly and painfully, scared to die because now I want to live more than ever. I’m scared because if I die, what would you do? I couldn’t bear to leave you alone._

He had waited before talking to Ron and Hermione. He told himself that he had time, he was sick anyway so what could possibly change? But he kept lying and lying and suddenly he didn’t even know what was the truth anymore. He knew he wasn’t a good liar anyway.

So one morning when they showed up in his hospital room, he wasn’t surprised. So, he almost told them everything, he just couldn’t talk about Draco just yet. They had listened, silent and livid. Ron was standing up by the door and Hermione sitting down in an armchair next to his bed. Both were red-eyed and on their faces, Harry could see the fear and the shock.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Harry had tried to explain, sheepish. “And I’m fine now. I promise I’m all better.”

Ron had accepted his apologies but Hermione was more reticent to trust him. She feared he was lying to protect them again.

“I know that you know,” Harry whispered later, when Ron decided to see if Lockhart was still signing autographs in the Janus Thickey Ward.

“Well, what do you expect? Do you want me to be embarrassed, so shocked I can’t even bear to look at you? Do you want me to scold you? Harry, I don’t care. If you love him, good for you. If he makes you happy then it’s all for the best. If you trust him more than us…”

“Hermione…”

Hermione got up, stood by the window and watched the storm outside. Harry liked knowing that he was safe from the rain and the thunder in here however he couldn’t help but think that Hermione herself was as furious as the weather outside.

“He knew… Harry, he knew and we spent days and nights worrying, thinking the worst!”

“Because he was there when it happened! But it’s not about trust, I swear to you. You know I’d trust you with my life, Hermione, I did it before…”

She walked back to his bed and took his hand, almost crushing it.

“Then do it. I’d take better care of it than yourself.”

But, ever since that day, they talked every night and slowly, their trust began to resemble to what it used to be.

So, as he finally arrived in the reception area, Harry already imagined Draco waiting for him, leaning on the wall, wearing an elegant suit and smiling. It’d probably be a grey suit. Draco liked grey.

He just needed to hold back, not jump in his arms. Harry laughed silently; he knew he’d do it either way. He scanned the crowded room, squeezed through the many witches and wizards who came to see their loved ones, stood on his tiptoes but no. No Draco.

“Harry Potter?”

It was a voice behind his back so Harry turned around quickly. He saw a man with light brown hair and big blue eyes., he was about his age and looked extremely familiar.

 _Theodore Nott,_ Harry thought.

“You were the one… waiting for me?”

“Yeah, I’m Draco’s friend, aren’t I?” He answered, smiling.

He extended his hand, revealing a ring which represented an Ouroboros. With a heavy heart, Harry shook his hand. He knew that if Theodore Nott was here instead of Draco, then something was not quite right.

* * *

“Would it be possible to at least know where we’re going?” Harry asked once they were out of the hospital and in front of the abandoned shop which hid St Mungo’s from the Muggles.

It was a bit strange to be back outside, away from the safety and isolation of his room. He liked it even if it rained and the air was a bit polluted. They were in London after all, one couldn’t hope for much better.

“King’s Cross,” Nott answered.

He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit it with a Muggle lighter.

“And may I know why we’re going there?”

“Because it’s a train station, of course. And we need a train.”

Harry froze. “Is that a joke?”

“No, I never joke.”

Nott started walking quickly again and Harry had to run to catch up. He frowned and muttered that this Nott bloke was a Slytherin and that probably explained why he was acting like such a wanker. Harry thought so anyway.

“And you expect me to follow you to King’s Cross in order to go where exactly?”

“Well, Guernsey. I’m pretty sure Draco’s there.”

“Draco’s in Hogwarts,” Harry answered, tense.

Nott stopped walking, took a long drag on his cigarette and said: “No, Draco’s missing.”

Harry closed his eyes.

“Missing?” he asked, breathless.

“It’s 10:15 A.M. The train leaves in ten minutes. Once we’re on it, I’ll tell you everything. Deal?”

* * *

The train was empty. It had nothing to do with the colourful crowd that had embarked last summer. There was nothing to make him forget about the silence or the grey sky and cold weather. But Harry knew that the landscapes would disappear soon under the sea. No more sky, just ghostly shadows brushing against the exterior of the train.

He hoped he wouldn’t feel claustrophobic again.

Nott was sitting in front of him, back straight. He was looking outside as well, his curious eyes lost far behind the dirty window. When he took off his coat and scarf, Harry felt something terribly painful when he noticed that Nott was wearing a grey jumper. It was Draco’s favourite shade. Harry bent forward, elbows on his knees and hands pressed to his eyes.

Amy had said that the man waiting for him was very handsome but Harry wasn’t sure. Nott seemed perpetually lost somewhere which was an expression Harry had only seen in one other human being, Luna Lovegood.

“So?” he asked harshly, incapable of waiting another minute.

Nott jumped in his seat. “Oh. Yes, excuse me.”

He kept his head turned towards the window, captivated. Harry had never met anyone so passionate about boring English countryside.

“Two days ago, the Daily Prophet published an article,” he started. “An article about you. The journalist talked about your hospitalization but I suppose they didn’t have any real information so they had to make up something in order to sell their rubbish. That journalist came to Hogwarts and interviewed a few students who confessed that they wondered if your sudden and incomprehensible sickness had something to do with your friendship with Draco. After all, and I quote, you testified at his Mother’s trial so he had to have bewitched you somehow… And who knows what else he might have done.”

“But no one would actually believe that…”

“Unfortunately some people did. A group of vigilantes decided he needed to be punished. Yesterday morning, on his way to the Great Hall, Draco walked right into an ambush.”

Harry knew that his breathing had become ragged. He feared for the worst.

“What have they done to him?” he whispered.

Theo sighed and finally turned his head to look at Harry, his eyes full of anger and sadness. He didn’t seem to be able to get the words out.

“They wrote… carved… the words Death Eater… on his back.”

Harry got up and started walking back and forth in the tiny compartment, arms stretched behind his head. He hit the compartment’s door with his fist.

“Fuck!” he roared. “Bloody wankers! I’m going to go back there and I swear I’ll rip their eyes out. Arseholes! I’m going to find them, one by one…”

Nott got up as well and stood near Harry but didn’t try to touch him or to force him to calm down.

“Harry…”

“What? You’re not going to tell me that it doesn’t upset you? That you don’t want to beat them up? Throw one into the sea, far away from the shore, without any life jacket and with their hands and feet bound? Yeah, that’s a good idea, it’ll remind them of something… Was Creevey there? Was he with them?”

“I don’t know who that is, Harry…”

"He’s a little piece of shit that I should have reported when I had the chance!” He started walking back and forth again. “And Ron and Hermione! They didn’t tell me anything! I spoke to them last night and it didn’t even occur to them that maybe I’d want to know if something happened to him!”

Harry hit his forehead and sat down, incredulous.

“They did it to punish me because I waited two weeks before telling them I was sicker than they thought I was. Is that it?”

“I don’t really know them and I was away when it happened as you may have noticed…”

“Oh… Yes, of course.”

Nott sighed and sat down as well.

“All I know is that someone caught Draco’s attackers while they were at it and they were expelled. But Draco was already gone, he didn’t go to the infirmary or back to his dorm. He just… left. Blaise Zabini sent me a letter, hoping he’d join me wherever I was hiding but I told him we hadn’t been in touch for almost a year now. So he thought of you and here I am.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry said, “you didn’t even ask me if Draco came to see me in St Mungo’s. Or if I knew where he was.”

“I know him,” Nott answered, staring at the countryside again. “When he’s not okay, he never asks for help. He goes where he feels safe.”

Darkness filled the train as it entered the sea. Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the lights to be turned on in the compartments. This was the moment he had dreaded ever since stepping in the train.

“If you already knew I couldn’t help you and if you knew where to find him, why take me? Why didn’t you go alone?”

“Because he’ll need a friend,” Nott continued, “and that’s not exactly what I am at the moment. I don’t even know if he’ll want to see me.” He stared at Harry and didn’t blink once when he asked: “Did he tell you about me?”

At his tone and the insistence of his stare, Harry knew that it was about their broken friendship and the way war had separated two best friends. He nodded.

“Then you probably know why he won’t be happy to see me.”

Harry opened his eyes and thankfully, the lights were already on. Through the window, he could see his own reflection in the dark water. He knew he looked emaciated, pale and sick. Since he had swallowed his potions this morning instead of toasts and pancakes, Harry wasn’t very hungry. Everything he ate made him sick.

Nott spoke again. “Why did you go to Guernsey this summer?”

“We went on a holiday there.”

“But why Guernsey?”

“Draco picked it. I didn’t know back then that it meant something to him… Why are you going back today?”

“Well, it’s a special place for us. After the war, I thought I would never go back there because it wouldn’t mean anything now that I’ve ruined everything. But today… Today I want to be optimistic,” he shrugged. “I just need to say I’m sorry and then we’ll see. What about you?”

“Me? I’m not expecting anything! You’re the one who’s taking me! I just… I just want him to be okay, that’s all…”

Harry studied the compartment’s floor which suddenly seemed very interesting.

“Draco always said you were insufferable,” Nott admitted, visibly amused.

“And he meant it.”

Nott nodded. “You’re very loud. Impulsive. Knowing Draco, I suppose it must annoy him.”

“It doesn’t _annoy_ him,” Harry answered, vexed, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Nott laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just saying, you’re different. It’s surprising that you ended up being such good friends.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s pretty insufferable himself.”

Nott agreed. Harry closed his eyes and tried to think that in a few hours, he’ll be with Draco again.

* * *

Guernsey wasn’t the inexhaustible resource of sun it had been last summer. The island was windy and surrounded by fog. Harry couldn’t even see the boats in the harbour because of the thick mist.

So he walked back and forth there, imagining the boats thanks to the painting Draco had given him for his birthday. He thought Guernsey wasn’t the same without the sun and the children running everywhere, laughing and eating ice cream.

Nott had gone to the house the Malfoys had rented when they had been there years ago. He thought that maybe Draco might have gone there but Harry wanted to believe that he hadn’t gone back to that house. He wanted to believe that these weren’t the memories he was looking for, that he had come back to their Guernsey.

If Draco was here anyway.

Potions or not, Harry’s fingers were starting to get numb from the cold. He had wandered far away from the harbour towards the beach they had spent their afternoons. He hadn’t even noticed he was heading towards this place.

He remembered how they had stared at each other from the corner of their eyes, how he had checked Draco out so many times but couldn’t quite understand what it meant back then. It was easy, remembering these days. The fondness he had started to feel then hadn’t left him at all. In fact, it had gotten much stronger. Now, he knew what he felt.

Harry noticed a shape close to the sea, half hidden by the fog. He ran, his heavy rucksack hanging on one shoulder and his feet twisting in the sand. He didn’t quite realize what he was doing.

As he approached, the shape started to look more and more familiar. First, Harry noticed the blond hair, almost white, and then he saw that the shape was walking in the sea, trousers rolled up to the knees. He was turning his back on Harry, shoes in his hand, walking in the exact same spot he had swum a few months ago.

Harry abandoned his rucksack on the sand, started walking in the sea and his shoes filled with water. He hissed when he touched the frozen water but he didn’t stop and splashed himself as he kept going into the sea.

Alerted by the noise, the shape turned around. And it was him. So surprised he dropped his shoes in the sea. His cheek were bright red from the cold and his hair completely ruined because of the wind. His eyes were frozen in surprise.

Harry stopped walking. Was it raining? Harry had water on his cheeks and it tasted salty on his lips.

He just needed to walk a few more steps but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t move and simply stared at Draco. He tried to smile.

 _It’s me, Draco, just me. No need to be scared. No need to put your mask on. It’s just me._  

Harry wanted to believe that there was no mask anymore, no heart protected by ice. He thought it had all been swallowed by the sea. Good riddance.

Draco, observing Harry’s soaked jeans and the way his chest rose rapidly, smiled back. He still looked surprised but also happy now. Harry started laughing despite the rain on his cheeks. He took the final step that separated them, arms open, and finally they kissed each other softly.

Draco held him and dropped butterfly kisses all over Harry’s face, on his cheeks, his nose and his forehead. Then, he hugged Harry, holding him close and so tightly it hurt a bit. It seemed he never wanted to let go. During these minutes standing in the sea, Harry found all that he had missed when he had been away; Draco’s strong arms around him, his perfume, his soft hair…

Harry held him too but he was scared of hurting him. Had he even took the time to heal the letters carved in his back?

“Why are you crying?” Draco whispered while touching his face, wiping the tears and making sure he was actually there.

“I’m not,” Harry answered, puzzled, “it’s raining.”

Draco kissed his nose again and hid his face in Harry’s neck, breathed in deeply, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin.

“You’re okay…” he said.

It wasn’t a question. He hadn’t felt the abnormal cold that had followed Harry everywhere even in summer. He just didn’t know it was still there, simply hidden for now.

“It was here. Do you remember?” Draco added. “Our first night in Guernsey. We left the restaurant and we walked on the beach. I even howled in the night just because I could. And I can tell you now, I definitely had trouble talking the next day. I can’t remember if I wanted to feel alive or if I just wanted to prove to you that you were.”

“And now, do you feel alive?” Harry answered, taking his hand.

“Now I wonder how we could ever have doubted it. It’ll be alright now. Come on Harry, let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the story! Unfortunately I won't be able to publish a new chapter next week, I'm going away for the week-end and there is no Wi-Fi where I'm going :(  
> Thank you for the nice comments, Kudos and bookmarks, you are all so lovely!


	22. Guernsey

The sky had gotten even darker in Guernsey as Harry and Draco left the beach, hand in hand. After three weeks in a small hospital room, Harry felt tiny now that he was surrounded by both sea and sky.

Night was starting to fall as well now and the lighthouse was guiding ships towards the harbour. Next to Harry, Draco couldn’t stop shivering because of the cold. After all, he had lost his shoes in the sea.

“Merlin’s sake,” he groaned, “it was a brand new pair of shoes. You’d think being a wizard could save your life in these types of situation but no. _Accio_ didn’t even work, the shoes are probably ruined by now.”

“Look,” Harry said, pulling his hand, “a beach shop. They might sell plastic sandals for children. Probably pink and glittery. Do you want a pair?”

Harry got a death stare in response.

“I was just saying!” Harry laughed. “Wouldn’t want you to have mince meat instead of feet.”

“Already have that on my back. Anyway, we’re almost there. Bloody fucking hell.”

Draco had stopped walking instantly. Right in front of them, surprised, was Theodore Nott. He was staring at Draco, cigarette in his mouth, smiling already. He examined Draco’s bare feet and his rolled trousers. His hand in Harry’s.

He seemed a bit confused by that but then again, he always looked out of place and completely discomposed.

“What’s he doing here?” Draco asked.

“Oh, well, he came with me,” Harry mumbled. “Actually, he’s the one who came to get me at the hospital. He knew where to find you. You should go and talk to him.”

“Are you joking? You know he left during the war, he didn’t like the person I was becoming and he was right.”

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand and pulled him down a bit so he could kiss his cheek.

“You’re not that person anymore. And he made the trip to see you because he was worried. He’s still your friend, Draco. You need to turn that page anyway, no more unfinished business. Listen to what he has to say.”

Draco nodded reluctantly and Harry told him he was going to wait in the little café near the harbour. He walked away and let the two friends reunite.

* * *

The café was entirely empty. He recognized the place instantly even though it wasn’t as crowded as it had been in the summer. In one instant, the heat and the sun came back. Of course, the colourful parasols outside were all gone but still, it was almost the same as in his memories.

He sat near the window and took off his wet jacket. From there, he could see Draco and Theo talk with animation, hands raising and falling in the air. It was like watching a silent movie. One moment, Draco turned around and started walking away but stopped at the last moment. He saw Harry sitting at the café through the window and changed his mind. This time, the discussion seemed less heated.

“Hello! What can I get you?” a small woman in an apron asked.

She was wearing robes so Harry assumed she was a witch.

“Just a tea, please.”

“And a slice of Bakewell tart.”

Harry blinked, puzzled. “What?”

“You look like you need a pastry,” she explained with a smile. “And it’s on the house. You’re my only client today.”

“Some would say it’s an excellent reason not to offer pastries,” Harry answered, eyebrows raised.

She shrugged and disappeared behind the counter. A few minutes later, she came back carrying a steaming cup of tea. The plater with the tart was following her, floating. She was definitely a witch.

“That’s the best tart you’ll ever eat,” she said, putting the plate in front of him.

Harry started eating. He chewed, swallowed and did so again and again. He raised his thumb to tell the witch it had been excellent but he couldn’t quite taste anything thanks to all the potions he was taking. He tried to recognize the almonds and the frangipane but it was pointless.

He stopped eating, discouraged.

“Tell me,” he asked after drinking a sip of tea, reassured because he still enjoyed that, “why can’t we Apparate on the island?”

“Guernsey was warded during the way. You didn’t know?” Harry shook his head. “We hid many Muggleborns here. We all contributed to the creation of the wards, no one could get off or on the island without us agreeing beforehand. When the war ended, we chose not to take them off and our mayor came up with the idea of the train under the sea. He said: if the Muggles can do it then so can we!”

“Except the Muggles dug a tunnel before,” Harry retorted.

“Well, I’ll admit the trip is a bit scary at first but we got used to it. Keeping the wards, it’s our way of remembering what happened during the war and prevent it from ever happening again.”

“There’s no greater shame than forgetting…” Harry said, nodding.

She nodded as well, suddenly looking very sad.

“My husband died during the war,” she said softly.

Harry thought she looked so young, she shouldn’t have had to go through something like that. They were probably barely married when it happened.

“I’m really sorry…”

“He felt useless here, baking and serving tea every day, knowing what was happening in England. One morning, he packed his suitcase, asked for a special authorization to get off the island and then he left. The Ministry of Magic gave us his body back in the beginning of summer…”

Mechanically, she played with her wedding ring.

“I wish I could do something for you,” Harry said.

In those moments, he felt guilty because he survived. Because he came back. No one else had had that chance. Not Remus and Tonks even though they had a baby to raise. Not that husband whose wife was now smiling to a picture.

He finished his tea with difficulty.

“There’s nothing you can do and that’s okay,” she said. Then, with a smile, she asked: “But what’s Harry Potter doing on our island when the weather is so terrible?”

“I came to find someone,” he answered, looking at Draco through the window.

“Guernsey is a nice place to fall in love.”

She went back to the counter and picked up a newspaper. Harry kept waiting and a few minutes later, the door opened and wind dived into the café. Draco came in, rubbing his hands to warm them. He sat down next to Harry.

“You don’t have any shoes,” the waitress noticed.

“Really? I didn’t know,” he pointed Harry’s tea and added: “I’ll have the same thing please.”

She got up, still frowning at Draco’s feet.

“Already?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded and leaned towards him. He kissed him softly, lacing his arms around him. For once, Harry was warming him up and not the other way around. He kissed Draco back, hands through his hair, shivering. Suddenly, it became much more passionate and they couldn’t get enough of each other.

The waitress cleared her throat. They pulled apart, both blushing. They always lost themselves when they were kissing. Well, kissing always made them believe they were alone in the world. But the witch didn’t seem to mind and was even smiling.

She put the cup in front of Draco and winked at Harry when she also gave him a slice of Bakewell tart. She bit her lip and then took out her wand; a pair of brand new shoes floated into the café and fell to the floor.

“They were my husband’s,” she explained. “You should wear them.”

Draco’s lips were swollen and bright red. It was the only colour on his face and Harry desperately wanted to kiss him again.

“Are you sure?”

“Unfortunately, he won’t wear them again.”

On these words, she disappeared and left the boys alone.

“Do you want to know what we talked about?” Draco asked.

Harry shrugged.

“He thought the war would turn me into a monster and he ran away. I think I’m not quite ready to forgive him for that but I understand why he did it. He needed to get away and it saved him. And he came back, brought you to me so I guess that’s a good start.”

“He’s still your friend,” Harry added.

“I know. He’s going back to England to set up a small business. I told him he’ll be welcome to drop by. You were right, I needed to talk to him so that we can both forgive each other.”

He sat closer to Harry. They were side by side now, legs pressed, Harry’s head on Draco’s shoulder. He tasted the pastry and made an appreciative noise.

“That’s brilliant, don’t you think?”

Harry closed his eyes and let himself savour the moment.

“Yes, I do,” he answered finally.

Except he wasn’t really talking about the Bakewell tart.

* * *

It was better than being bare-footed, better than plastic sandals but the black shoes were still too small for Draco. The second they reached the hotel, he took them off and sat down on the small couch. When he arrived yesterday, Draco asked for the very same room they had shared on their trip to Guernsey last summer. This time, it was real and Harry knew that something was different in here because the Requirement Room couldn’t recreate emotions and memories.

“It’s odd, wearing a dead man’s shoes.”

He took off his jacket and threw it on the unmade bed. His ankles were scratched and muddy. Harry lowered his eyes and noticed that he wasn’t in a better state; his socks were soaked and full of sand. It was disgusting and all he wanted to do was taking a warm bath with Draco. But first, he wanted to make sure he was okay.

He went to the bathroom and took a wet towel, came back to the bedroom and lowered himself on his knees. He cleaned Draco’s feet and closed the scratches with a spell he knew. Then, he sat down on the couch and stroked Draco’s back hesitantly.

“Show me,” he whispered.

Draco bit his lip, hesitant but then he raised his arms and Harry helped him take his jumper off. At first, Harry only recognized what he had already seen, the soft muscles, the Secumsempra scars that he had kissed… But he forced himself to look up.

“Merlin…”

He didn’t quite know what he was looking at. Dry blood and long red cuts everywhere, forming two unfinished words. It hurt Harry to even look at it.

“I bought a healing salve this morning but I couldn’t spread it on my back.”

He showed Harry that his hand couldn’t reach his wounds at all.

“You didn’t even clean it,” Harry lectured.

“I tried taking a shower but it started bleeding again!”

Harry went back to the bathroom to wet the towel he had taken before.

“This might sting a little…” he warned.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t make a single noise when they cut me. Not going to start now.”

A terrible rage seized Harry but he forced himself to remain calm and take care of Draco. That was the most important thing. He started cleaning his back and little by little, letters appeared… D, E, A, T, H,… He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t see the rest.

“They said: “don’t like Muggles, do you, Malfoy? We’ll see what you think of that!” And they carved the letters with a Muggle knife. It really hurt.”

“Who?” Harry asked, gritting his teeth. “Creevey?”

“You’re joking? That kid only sent letters, that’s all. Nothing else.”

“But… The lake! He told me…”

“He was part of the group, I know. But he was the one panicking, “should we Stun him, really? Are you sure? It’s bad, we can’t do that! What if he sank!” and so on.”

“Who then?” Harry insisted.

“I don’t know… Ironically enough, they wore masks.”

“Theo told me they were caught in the act and expelled! You must know who they were.”

“No, I don’t.”

Harry, caught by a terrible doubt, asked: “Draco, were they… friends of mine? Is that why you won’t tell me anything? Ron and Hermione didn’t mention anything either, is that why?”

“That’s rubbish,” Draco hissed, “your Gryffindor friends are much too honest for that and you know it.”

But the doubt was there now. Harry, as he rubbed Draco’s back with the healing salve, was imagining the worst. Who would be so resentful? Sighing, Harry kept applying the lotion and read the instructions on the jar.

“You need to wait an hour now.”

“Should we order some dinner then?”

“We just ate,” Harry protested weakly.

He didn’t want to say he wasn’t hungry.

“You barely touched your tart and gave me the rest,” Draco said suspiciously. “You’re not really healed, aren’t you?”

“I’m as good as new!” Harry said.

“What did they find?” Draco insisted, dead serious.

“Oh, you know, Madam Pomfrey was right. My body can’t regulate its temperature anymore because of the Killing Curse and they just needed to find a way to compensate.”

“Compensate,” Draco repeated, puzzled. “How?”

“I have potions. I take them every morning at breakfast and I’m good for the day.”

Fingers tense on his trousers, livid, Draco was angry. Harry recognized the signs, his chest heaving, teeth clenched.

“Basically you’re not healed at all,” he said firmly.

“Not healed,” Harry confirmed. “But my treatment works and I can have a normal life, that’s something, right?”

“And in a few years when your body will be immune to the potions, what will you do?”

“They’ll simply readjust them.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

Harry lowered his eyes and that was enough of a confession.

“I knew it!” Draco yelled as he started to walk back and forth in the small hotel room. “Good as new, huh? You lied! You think I’m naive? You’re not as good as new, you’re condemned, Harry! You have a disease we don’t know shit about! You may have some time but you’ve got one feet in the grave already.”

He pointed at Harry accusingly and continued, yelling even louder:

“Is that why you don’t eat anything? Is that why you’re so thin I wondered why you weren’t carried away by the wind earlier?”

“STOP YELLING!” Harry said, pressing his palms on his eyes to appease his nausea and dizziness. “I _know_ it’s not ideal but what do you want me to do? I’m not a Healer! I saw countless kids there with terrible diseases, slowly dying because of the war! The boy in the room next to mine has malfunctioning lungs and they’re about to fail any day now. What I have compared to him is nothing! If I die in a few years because the potions won’t work anymore then at least I’ll have that time! And I can be happy about it cause it could have been nothing at all. So stop yelling at me, okay?”

Harry stopped yelling as well, gasping. He felt so dizzy he simply raised his arms blindly and waited for Draco to catch him. He held him and brought him back to the bed.

“Harry…”

“It’s okay, I’m fine.”

He let himself fall on the bed, Draco by his side.

“I’m just worried, I didn’t mean to…”

“I know,” Harry whispered, eyes closed. “But it’s been a long day and I’ve been in bed most of the time these past weeks.”

The bed he was now lying on was so comfortable he could have fallen asleep immediately. Draco took off his wet shoes, socks and jeans leaving him in his pants and jumper. He also removed his glasses, folded them and put them on the nightstand. Finally, he covered Harry with the thick blankets until the only thing he could see was the top of his head.

“Just like the night I was drunk…” Harry mumbled.

“What are you talking about?”

“The night of the ball, you did the exact same thing. You took off my clothes, my glasses and you tuck me in. I read your diary and now I know everything.”

“Did I write that many compromising things?” Draco answered while wrapping locks of Harry’s hair around his finger.

“You wrote that you loved me…”

“Is that really a surprise though?”

Harry opened his eyes. Draco’s nose was almost touching his own, he was lying on his side next to him. Harry couldn’t really see him without his glasses so his hand emerged from under the covers and touched his face, recognizing some details.

Draco kissed him. His lips swallowed Harry’s without hesitation and he rolled on top of him, pining him on the bed.

“No more heart attacks after having sex?” Draco asked.

He had stopped kissing him as soon as he had thought about that and was now staring at Harry with concern.

“The Healer said I could enjoy it wholeheartedly all day long.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Draco commented, sneaking his hands under Harry’s jumper.

“Yeah, he was… literally giggling… I think it was because I looked so embarrassed when I asked…” Harry answered, breathless.

Draco’s fingers on his chest were insisting and were even starting to tickle him. Harry wriggled to make him move.

“Stop fidgeting! I’m counting your ribs. You got even thinner, Harry.”

Harry rolled his eyes and pulled Draco up so they could kiss. His touches were more sensual now, massaging the muscles, caressing the places he knew made Harry lose his mind.

He felt so good, he closed his eyes, enveloped himself in the warmth… Draco’s mouth was wandering lower and lower but everything was so soft and padded…

* * *

When Harry woke up, the sun had already been up for a long time. The curtains were open, letting the bright November sun filter in the room.

Draco was lying on his side of the bed, sipping coffee while reading the Daily Prophet, serenely leaning back on the pillows behind his back. There was a tray full of pastries and fruits between them. It all looked so blissfully comfortable.

“About time,” he said when he saw Harry coming up from under the covers, rubbing his eyes.

He yawned and stretched. “Did I fall asleep in the middle of…”

“Foreplay? Yes you did. I was about to finally show you some of my best abilities when I looked up and saw you were completely out of it. By the way, I’m not speaking to you anymore.”

“Oh,” Harry winced. “Really sorry about that.”

Draco shrugged and kissed him softly. He tasted like chocolate and coffee. Harry let his head fall on his naked shoulder. It was all so natural. He wanted to stay there forever.

“Anything new in the Daily Prophet?”

“Harry Potter, saviour of the Wizarding World, the sexually impotent Chosen One (Harry rolled his eyes) hospitalized in St Mungo’s for unknown reasons disappeared yesterday. Sources say he was kidnapped by a handsome young man,” he pointed a finger at himself questioningly and continued, “and he’s probably in for some serious physical abuse. Anything to say about that, Mr Potter?”

“I’m not impotent, I was just tired!” Harry answered.

“Allow me to doubt that. The only thing I saw last night was you snoring loudly.”

Harry tore the newspaper from his hands, put his glasses on and browsed through the Daily Prophet. He threw it on Draco.

“There’s nothing about me in there!”

“Oh really?” he said, bending forward to avoid the newspaper.

Harry noticed that the skin on his back was spotless. There were only his birth mark near his neck and a few beauty spots here and there but the ugly letters were gone. He couldn’t stop himself and touched the places which they had covered.

“Have you seen that? I’m good as new now. Really.”

“And I like it better that way.”

Draco settled against his pillows again and forced Harry to eat before taking his potions. He threatened to feed him himself which, now that Harry thought about it, didn’t sound like a threat at all. They finished eating and stayed in bed, lazily talking and staring at each other. They were happy to finally be back together.

“So,” Draco cleared his throat, “when do you need to go back to Hogwarts?”

“I’m not going back,” Harry said after breathing in. “And don’t look at me like that, Draco. I swear my potions didn’t make me lose my mind. It’s just… It’s the right call and the right moment to make it. Oh, talking about potions…”

Harry jumped out of bed and searched through his abandoned rucksack by the door. He found the little box full of vials of potions for the week. He came back to bed, one vial in each hand.

“I’m not going back either.”

“I thought so,” Harry answered, wincing as he recognized the awful taste of the blue potion.

“I know why I’m not going back. My parents were right, the war is still in everybody’s minds. But you, why are you leaving? I’m not sure I understand.”

“I can’t bear to be in Hogwarts anymore,” he explained. “I don’t belong there anymore. It’s not my home. It used to be but now that I’ve spent a year hunting Horcruxes, I’m not the same person anymore. And taking classes and having terrible grades, going to balls and playing Quidditch… That’s no longer for me.”

“What about your big dream?”

Harry swallowed his second potion and shrugged. “I don’t want to become an Auror. I liked the idea of it but I’ve had my fill of dark magic. I don’t want to spend my life surrounded by it. And I have other dreams now.”

Draco took Harry in his arms again now that he had taken his potions.

“What are these dreams then?”

“I want to have my own place. Not Grimmauld Place, not the Burrow. A little apartment with big windows. I want to spend Christmas there next month, with you. I want to go away and travel all around the world. I want to go on a plane. I’ve always wanted to do that. Broomsticks are nice but you can’t get that high. Next summer, I want to go back to Guernsey with you. Without the tent, I promise.”

He thought for a few seconds.

“I’d like to be able to sing quite nicely so that you don’t have to complain when I sing under the shower, I want to learn how to dance, smoke just once to see what it tastes like, never fall asleep again during foreplay and go at it all day long.”

He smiled softly.

“I want to go to Godric’s Hollow with you because I have to introduce you to my parents. I want you to meet them and Teddy. Did I tell you I was his godfather? Then I’ll help George reopen his shop because he needs to move on. We’ll start next week if he’s okay with it. And right now, I really want to take a bath. I don’t think I have big dreams anymore. Just little things. But whatever I imagine, you’re always there.”

“Even in the plane?”

“Yep.”

“Even in your bath?”

“Especially in my bath!”

* * *

The warm bath was full of bubbles and smelled incredibly nice. Vanilla, cocoa, something that reminded Harry of spending the day in bed and watching the snow fall outside. He was floating in the wide tub, humming. He was in a good mood.

“May I?”

Without waiting for his answer, Draco climbed into the tub and sat in front of Harry, plunging his naked body in the steaming water. He relaxed instantly and seemed to let all of the tension in his shoulders go.

Knowing that Draco was so close to him and fully naked compelled Harry to get closer, touch him somehow but he waited. Draco’s foot was caressing his leg, going up and up slowly until it reached his thigh.

He raised his eyebrows as if asking silently if he should do something. Harry nodded.

Draco approached, exploring Guernsey’s sea floor. His hands found soft thighs and finally, Harry’s crotch.

“I see we’re not asleep,” he whispered, settling behind Harry, “wide awake even.”

He bit his ear and kissed Harry’s neck and shoulder, his hand still working under the water. He heard moans, restrained at first but louder and louder as Harry spread his legs.

It was a bit uncomfortable and he could only taste disgusting potions on Harry’s tongue but he didn’t care, he wanted more already. With a nudge, he indicated the edge of the tub to Harry. He nodded and headed towards it, bending over.

Draco kissed his back, found his erection and stroked it. It had been three weeks, three weeks he had thought of nothing but Harry. Now that he was here, so willing, as healthy as he could be, he could barely believe his own eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked, hands on Harry’s arsecheeks.

Harry turned around and kissed him awkwardly due to his position.

“I liked it so much last time. At night, it was the only thing I could think about. You, inside me, making me feel so good,” he said, blushing. “And sometimes, when I missed you the most, I tried putting my fingers in and imagining they were yours.”

Draco groaned, hips bucking involuntarily between Harry’s cheeks. The thought of him, alone in his hospital bed, so desperate for Draco’s fingers…

Harry, almost reading his mind, took Draco’s hand, the one on his hips, and guided it lower. He understood and slipped a finger inside slowly. The moan Draco heard in return was so genuine he almost came right then. But it was nothing compared to the moment he finally entered Harry again, nothing compared to that moment when they were finally joined again, thrusting together, lost in each other. Finally, it was exactly how it was supposed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, as you may have seen, I have decided to add another chapter to this story because I haven’t written the ending yet and I realised three chapters weren't enough for what I have in mind. So if you guys want to see anything in particular, any fluffy domestic moment or more smut or anything you want just tell me in the comments and I will do my best to put it in the story if I can.  
> Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos!


	23. Back to the Burrow

On the pier, everyone hid their faces inside warm scarfs to avoid the bite of the cold wind. It was odd to see Guernsey like this but Harry still believed the place to be a reminiscence of summer. It even had a foretaste of the next one. He was alive here, the potions in his bag didn’t exist.

He breathed in, inhaling the unpolluted air and savouring the smell of salt on it. He tried to remember how everything looked like so he could picture it in his mind if need be. He knew he might feel oppressed when he’ll arrive to the Burrow because too many people would be there, checking up on him and worrying.

“I wanted to stay a bit longer,” Harry said as he climbed on the train.

“We’ll be back soon,” Draco promised, lacing his arms around Harry from behind.

 _Yes_ , Harry thought, _we’ll come back._

They would eat a piece of Blackwell tart again, take walks under the sun, tan, swim in the ocean and spend nights staring at the stars. Draco would make love to him over and over in their hotel room, rolling in the soft sheets or even in a tiny tent.

It should have made Harry feel better but these thoughts were depressing. He wanted to do that now instead of going back to London and to the reality he had left so quickly a few days ago. He wanted to stay in his safe place with Draco instead of coming back to the unknown.

“Have you eaten a Dementor?” Draco asked as they settled in a compartment, side by side.

Harry snuggled against Draco and dropped his head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m even having trouble digesting it.”

Draco ran his fingers through Harry’s hair and put his other arm around him.

“Nostalgia doesn’t suit you, you should smile. You look much better when you do.”

Harry forced himself to smile. It wasn’t very pretty.

“We still have a few hours left, you should practice that smile,” Draco suggested, “this one isn’t even worth a 6 out of 20. No one will believe you’re okay if you smile like that when you’re with the Weasels.”

Harry crushed his foot.

“Weasley, Draco!”

“Leave the dead man’s shoes alone! I spent at least half an hour making them bigger, you can’t destroy them now.”

“This obsession with shoes needs to stop right now, it’s not normal.”

“If you can find anything normal in my life, I promise I’ll finally give you that massage you’ve been dreaming about. Here and now. So, nothing? Really? What a surprise. Too bad you missed your chance when you fell asleep.”

Harry punched his shoulder playfully, embarrassed that he kept bringing this shameful event back. He then settled back against him comfortably. He liked Draco’s jokes and his odd temper and had even accepted the fact that he could be insanely annoying sometimes. Most importantly, he loved being in Draco’s arms. There, he knew they both felt safe and fit together perfectly. He smiled.

“Much better,” Draco said, watching him closely. “So much better actually. You’re getting there.”

He leaned in and kissed Harry softly.

* * *

Theo was on the other side of the train, last compartment to the right. Cheek against the window, he was watching the bottom of the sea with great interest.

Harry knocked and startled him. “May I?” he asked.

Theo turned his head regretfully as if he had been distracted while watching the most important thing of his life. He didn’t ask what Harry wanted, he just nodded.

Harry sat down in front of him, nervous. “Do you have a cigarette?”

Theo frowned, puzzled.

“It’s on my list,” Harry explained.

“You have a list?”

Theo searched his pockets, found his lighter and a cigarette and gave them to Harry. He put it in his mouth and lit it, breathed in and out and coughed violently.

“Not sure you’re allowed to smoke in here,” Theo warned.

Harry shrugged. It was burning his throat and it tasted awful. He hated everything immediately, the smell, the taste and the smoke.

“It’s disgusting, why would people become addicted to this?”

“It’s because it’s only disgusting at first,” Theo answered, “you get used to it. Sometimes I wonder if I don’t like having something in my hands rather than the taste.”

Harry gave him the cigarette back.

“What’s that list of yours?” Theo asked.

“All the things I want to do before dying. It’s a bit stupid.”

“And melodramatic.”

“Perhaps, yes. Not really.”

 _I’m sick_ , _you know_ , he wanted to say. _I don’t know how long I have._

“You can cross the cigarette off, at least. Was it worth it?”

“Putting it on the list? No, absolutely not. I’ll replace it with something better.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet. Are you glad that you spoke to Draco?”

“He forgave me, that’s all that matters. Now we’ll be able to turn the page and start something new. I’m going to start a business in Diagon Alley and maybe he’ll want a job someday. We could be partners.”

“I’m sure he’ll like that.”

“And I’m sure I’ll be seeing an awful lot of you then,” Theo added, raising his eyebrows.

Harry blushed. “Didn’t see that one coming, did you?”

“Well, there was always something between you two. And I’m happy it’s you, Harry. When you’re with him, he’s different, he smiles a lot more and he’s relaxed, nothing about him is tense or hidden. You helped him throw his armour off. Take care of him, okay?”

Harry nodded and got up. They said goodbye and he left the compartment. He knew they would see each other a lot anyway. He was Draco’s best friend after all. Harry quite liked him and thought about introducing him to Luna. They’d be good friends.

* * *

Harry felt lighter when he came back to his compartment, glad that he had gotten to know Theo a little bit better.

“Where have you been?” Draco asked.

“Just took a walk, went to the toilet…”

“And talked to Theo. I take it you like him then? Even though he’s a mean Slytherin like me?”

Harry laid down on the bench, head in Draco’s lap.

“Slytherins aren’t that bad once you know them.”

Draco leaned in and kissed him briefly. It was a bit awkward because of the angle but the look on Draco’s face was worth ten kisses at least. He seemed relieved that Harry liked Theo and would be willing to give his other friends a chance.

“Did you smoke?” he frowned, getting back up quickly, “you smell terrible.”

“Yes, Draco, I smoked and it was terrible. I won’t do it again.”

Draco burst out laughing and it was infinitely warm and pleasant. Harry didn’t think he’d ever get tired of hearing it. He thought about what Theo had said about Draco being more relaxed and open when he’s with him. Harry closed his eyes, let himself relax as well.

“We should get some sleep, you kept me awake way too long last night,” Draco said.

“Well, I had to make up for the time I fell asleep, right?”

Draco laughed, still not over the surprise and rush of affection he had felt when he had come back to their room with dinner only to find Harry, dropping to his knees to welcome him. Needless to say, they had both forgotten all about food.

“Wouldn’t mind if you had to make up for it a few more times, you know?”

Harry huffed. “We’re on a train, Draco.”

“But there’s only Theo here!”

“No, anyone could walk in!”

“So what?”

Harry seemed to consider this and then shrugged, getting up to settle over Draco’s lap.

“Fine but if someone walks past, I’ll kill you.”

* * *

It was rainy and cold in London. Theo had gone off the train as soon as it had arrived and disappeared towards the Muggle side of the station without saying goodbye. They’d meet again soon anyway.

Harry and Draco got off the train as well, hand in hand, and made their way through the crowd of noisy teenagers and business men, phone stuck to their ears.

After the deafening silence in Guernsey, the tiny island’s sand deserts and endless sea, if felt like they were in another world full of noise and uproar. It seemed time had only stopped for them. Harry already wanted to go back.

“Well,” Draco sighed as they stopped near the entrance, “if you don’t hear from me tonight it’s because my mother buried me alive in the garden.”

“And if you don’t hear from me, it’s because Molly gave me too much to eat and I exploded.”

Draco smiled. “We live dangerous lives, Harry.”

“It means we can take one more risk, right?”

Draco frowned and looked at him questioningly. “What do you mean?”

“You need to kiss me before I leave.”

“You mean… here? In the daylight?”

“There are only Muggles here. Nobody knows us, nobody’s looking at us and anyway, train stations are made for this. We kiss when we separate and we kiss when we find each other again…”

Draco grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulled him towards him and kissed him. And their kissed had an intensity Harry hadn’t quite expected, it was a hurried and urgent kiss, one people share when they want to say things but can’t speak them out loud. It meant I love you, I’ll miss you and one whole night without you is going to be too long.

Harry let his rucksack fall off his shoulder and the vials of potion banged together as the bag hit the ground. Harry didn’t care, he could forget a great number of things when Draco kissed him like that. His hands were now free to touch him, hold him closer and ruffle his hair. Finally, they stopped kissing and rested their foreheads together. Harry’s cold nose brushed against Draco’s softly.

“Now I really need to go,” Draco whispered even though he hadn’t moved yet. “Don’t forget your potions and take care of yourself, okay?”

Harry nodded distractedly, dazed by their kiss.

“And don’t wear any hand-knitted jumpers, okay? Even if there’s an H or a Snitch on it.”

“I promise,” Harry said but he was only thinking of kissing him again.

“And if you really can’t bear to be there anymore, if they make you mad or ginger, send me an owl, I’ll dig the earth with my bare hands and come out of my grave. Hopefully Mother won’t be too mad.”

“Aren’t we supposed to see each other tomorrow?” Harry asked, pushing a lock of Draco’s hair behind his ear.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Then stop worrying, I’ll be fine. It’s only one night.”

Harry shook his head with amusement and took Draco’s face between his hands, leaving one last small kiss on his lips. Way too small to his taste but they both needed to go.

“Oh no,” Draco said darkly when he raised his head.

“What’s wrong?”

“Please, don’t turn around okay? Never. Let’s leave the station backwards.”

So obviously, Harry turned around.

His stomach jolted. A few meters away from them were Ron and Hermione, visibly out of breath and shocked. Ron, who didn’t know anything yet. His mouth was hanging open, eyes staring blankly at Harry.

 _Who are you?_ his wide-open eyes screamed. _What have you done with my best friend? The one who hated that Malfoy bloke and who never ever thought about kissing another boy?_  

“How long do you think they’ve been here?” Harry asked, frozen and scared.

“Long enough to have seen everything, I suppose. Do you… Do you want me stay? Because I could, if you needed me. Really. You’re white as a sheet, Harry.”

Harry pressed his hand. He honestly didn’t know what he had done to deserve a boyfriend like him.

“Go home, Draco. Your mother is probably worried sick about you. I’ll be fine, I swear.”

Draco sighed, bit his lip and brought Harry’s hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

“Okay,” he answered, “but don’t forget to send an owl if you need me. One word from you and I’ll come right away.”

Harry kissed him again. After all, Ron and Hermione had already seen everything and he needed to thank Draco but he was afraid it wouldn't be good enough with words. 

* * *

Hermione ran towards Harry and hugged him, effectively choking him.

“We wanted to surprise you,” she explained, panicked. “Professor McGonagall let us miss this afternoon’s classes. It wasn’t important anyway. Of course, all courses are important but we didn’t miss anything too important. You know, for the N.EW.T.S. We just had History of Magic at three o’clock and Hannah said she’d give us her notes and… anyway, the Headmistress allowed us to come and pick you up and bring you all the things you left at school. By the way, I still can’t believe you’re not coming back. We were late, I told Ron we were going to miss you so we ran and I thought we’d never find you, especially on the Muggle side of the train station and…”

“And finally it would have been quite difficult to miss me,” Harry finished gently. “Please Hermione, calm down. I’m out of breath just listening to you.”

With regret, she took a step back. She was obviously trying to keep herself from crying, eyes all red and puffy, begging him to do something, explain to Ron before he said something stupid.

“You look healthy,” she said. “The potions, how are the side effects? I’ve done some research and the components of these potions are really strong. But you can handle it, right?”

“Yeah, I can for now. I’m okay.”

“All good then.”

All this time, Ron had stayed quiet, in retreat, hands shoved in his pocket. He was kicking the pavement angrily as they walked.

“Ron,” Hermione said, “you haven’t said hello to Harry yet.”

Ron barely lifted his eyes from the pavement.

“Sorry, I must’ve forgotten how to speak. You know, it probably happened when Malfoy had his tongue down Harry’s throat and _he_  kissed him back.”

“Please, let me explain…” Harry tried.

“My mother is waiting for us. She prepared a big party for you, so we can celebrate your return from the hospital. Everyone will be there, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, George. Even Ginny. You know, my sister. The one you dated. So, what do you think of that?”

And then he turned around, walked towards an alley and Apparated without them. Without letting Harry explain.

“There really couldn’t have been a worst way for him to find out,” Hermione sighed.

“This party is going to be a disaster,” Harry added.

* * *

At first, there were a few awkward and long hugs. In the hearth, the fire was burning bright and candles were floating around the big table Molly had set. Conversations were highlighted with bursts of laugh and noises of knives and forks happily banging together. There was so much food they could almost believe it was a fest worthy of the evenings at Hogwarts.

Harry, stomach in knots, could barely eat anything and played with his food. He waited for the moment Ron would explode and tell everything. It was bound to happen anytime now. He was sat as far away from Harry as possible between Bill and Hermione at the end of the table, eyes locked to his full plate.

Ever since they had arrived at the Burrow an hour ago, Harry had tried to speak with him, again and again but every time he tried to say something, Ron walked away.

“You’re too old to play with your food, Ron,” Mr Weasley said. “Eat.”

The conversation suddenly drifted towards George’s shop and Molly added that she still couldn’t believe Harry wasn’t going back to Hogwarts and chose to help George instead.

“Leave him be, mum,” George protested, “it’s the best decision he’s taken in a while and I’m not just saying that because he’s going to help me. N.E.W.T.S. honestly aren’t that essential to a wizard’s life and becoming an Auror… That’s a scary life. You’d spend every day worrying about dying and chasing Death Eaters or who knows what kind of dark wizard…”

“But Harry likes catching Death Eaters, he might even have one to himself already,” Ron said in the middle of the conversation - no one noticed.

“…Oh by the way Harry, I need to show you something!”

On these words, George rushed to his bedroom to grab the sketches of new products he had made during the three weeks Harry had spent at the hospital.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to him,” Molly said, amazed, “but I haven’t seen him that excited about something in months. He’s like that ever since he came to see you at the hospital: full of energy and ideas, it’s miraculous!”

Ron laughed loudly and all heads turned to him.

“Let’s just hope he didn’t do to George what he does with Malfoy. I’m not sure you’d appreciate it if he became your son-in-law that way, mum.”

 _And here we go_ , Harry thought darkly.

The moment was there, palpable. Nobody spoke anymore, they all stared at each other blankly, without understanding. Fleur seemed to whisper in Bill’s ear but he shrugged and didn’t answer; he had no idea what was going on just like everybody else.

“What did you say about Malfoy?” Ginny asked, suddenly very pale and frowning.

“Ron, please, don’t say anything,” Hermione whispered, hands tense on his arm.

George came back at that moment, dozens of rolls of parchment in his arms. He let them fall on his chair, puzzled by the silence and tension in the air.

“Did I miss something?”

“Harry’s coming out of the closet,” Ron answered.

Hermione sighed and buried her face in her hands. Harry felt the eyes of everybody present on him, it was like a sunburn. Molly, Arthur, Charlie, Fleur, Bill, George, Ginny. The silence was so thick and heavy that Harry prayed someone would say something, anything at all. His cheeks were bright red and for the first time, he suddenly felt different, isolated and judged. For the first time he realised he was in love with someone he wasn’t supposed to have romantic feelings for and that everybody would always question it. No one would kindly wish him happiness and pat his back, at least not so soon after the war.

“We’re all waiting for your explanations,” Ron continued.

“Why, is this a trial?” Harry answered, voice shaking. “And will you look at me when you speak, _please_?”

“I’d rather not.”

Molly got up and her chair scraped the floor loudly. She stared at her husband, a bit desperate and looking for help.

“Well, I’ll just… go get the cake,” she said too happily, wiping her hands on her apron. “I made two pies, I don’t know what kind of food they serve at the hospital but you’re too thin, Harry, you need to eat more.”

She put a hand on his shoulder and pressed it lightly, walking around the table to go to the kitchen.

“What were you insinuating exactly, Ron?” Ginny asked again, suspicious. “Harry? What does he mean? Why does no one say anything?”

“Well, you already had a hard time accepting Harry might be friends with Malfoy, Gin? Well, you’re going to have to get used to the fact that he now exchanges saliva with the bloke. Well, let’s just hope that’s the only thing they exchange!”

“RON!” Hermione yelled.

Harry wanted to hit him. Perhaps, if his brothers hadn’t been around, he would’ve done so. He would’ve hit him again and again until he didn’t feel the pain of that awful betrayal.

He wanted to scream, get up and cry because he felt naked and deprived. Tarnished. What he felt for Draco had always seemed so unique, precious, pure even and now, in Ron’s mouth, in his eyes full of disgust, his love was nothing but vulgar and obscene. Harry couldn’t bear it, couldn’t see it anymore.

He got up, shaky, legs in cotton as if struck by lightning.

“I’m tired, I’ll just…”

He gestured towards the stairs, didn’t finish his sentence and didn’t turn back as he walked away, everyone’s eyes still burning him.

* * *

Harry was staring at the ceiling, trying to avoid the many orange posters of the Chudley Canons because it reminded him of Ron. He was holding back tears of humiliation and anger. He was thinking about running away.

Ron had crossed a line and there was no turning back now. He had destroyed everything and Harry wondered if this time their friendship was even reparable. It hurt when Harry thought about the ten years of brotherly friendship they had shared, from the moment they had met in the train and instantly became friends. They had had ups and downs but they had never been that low. They had always found a way back to each other but this time, it would be hard to forgive him. What if the Weasley family never wanted to see him again? What if Ron made him an orphan for the second time?

Harry heard someone knocking. It was light and yet in his mind it was like a drum, like thunder announcing a storm. Harry would have gladly closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep but the door opened. Molly entered, carrying Harry’s folded and clean clothes. She put them at the foot of the bed and sat down.

“I can leave, if that’s what you want,” Harry muttered.

"Why would I want you to leave?”

“You heard what Ron said earlier. The coming out, the saliva and everything. It was very clear, very crude but also very true. All of it. I don’t know how it happened but it did and I don’t intend to make it stop. So I… I’d understand if you want me to go.”

Molly crossed her arms on her chest, frowning.

“And what kind of mother would want that, Harry?”

“That’s where things get complicated.”

Molly shook her head, skeptical. “Really?”

“You always welcomed me in your family like a son. But I’m not your son. And you’re probably wondering what’s wrong with me… but I love him. Draco. I don’t know how it happened or why but it’s there and…”

“And it isn’t easy.”

“No, it’s not,” Harry huffed, passing a hand over his face.

“Then don’t expect me to make things even more complicated,” she said as she took his hand. “I’m sure there are lots of things to say in this kind of situation. "It’ll never change anything" or "we’ll love you no matter what" and so on but I don’t know if any of these will make feel you better. But there’s one thing you need to know: after all you’ve been through and after that awful war, Arthur and I only want one thing for you. We want you to find happiness and if Draco makes you happy, then it’s enough for us.”

“But his family has always been extremely unfair and disrespectful to yours and…”

“People change. And Draco’s not his father, never has been”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better, aren’t you?”

She smiled. “No, Harry. I always pitied that boy. Lucius really made a poor job of raising him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to speak to Ron. This time, he went too far and that’s not how I raised him.” Softly, she added: “He’s just shocked, Harry. Disappointed that you didn’t tell him sooner. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Harry nodded stiffly and they both got up as one. Suddenly, his throat stung and he felt like crying with relief so he hugged Molly. He knew he didn’t do it nearly as often as he should. An entire childhood deprived from these kind words or gestures tend to do that. Molly seemed small in his arms but in her hug was all the strength and comfort he needed.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

She smiled, walked to the door and made sure he got back into bed.

* * *

Molly was barely gone when another knock startled Harry. He jumped, frowned and got up, walking carefully towards the window. He opened the curtains and saw Draco’s face.

“You… flew?” Harry shouted as he noticed the broom he was on. “From the Manor?”

“Are you joking? Hypothermia is your thing, Harry, not mine. I Apparated to the nearest village like any sane person would and flew to your window. May I come in now or do you really want me to freeze to death?”

Harry stepped aside and opened the window as wide as he could. Draco climbed in gracefully and dropped his broom on the floor.

“You’re alive, that’s good news.”

“I also have bad news though. I’m not allowed to leave the Manor. For a week. I’m not even supposed to take a walk in the park. Can you believe that? How old does my mother think I am? Ten? I know it was a bit irresponsible to leave Hogwarts on my own without saying anything to anyone but… Merlin, my eyes are bleeding, I have never seen so many shades of orange.”

Harry frowned, puzzled.

“But obviously you left the Manor because you’re here.”

Draco smiled at him and took off his jacket. “Nice deduction as always, Harry.”

He had changed his clothes and was now wearing an elegant black suit.

“I left a note on my pillow just in case,” Draco continued. “But if Mother decides to check if I’m asleep like the well-behaved child I’m not, then she’ll probably never let me out of the Manor ever again.”

“But then… Why did you come?”

They heard steps in the hallway. Draco put a finger on Harry’s lips and pulled him towards the bed where they both fell, legs intertwined. Harry settled comfortably against Draco, head on his chest and arms wrapped around him. They hid beneath the covers so that if anyone came to check on Harry, he could pretend he was alone. Draco kissed his forehead, temples and closed eyelids.

“He behaved like a complete prick, didn’t he?” he whispered.

“Mmh. He just said it like that, in the middle of dinner. You know what? Harry’s gay! He even kissed the Ferret!”

“Still calls me the Ferret?” Draco said, outraged and already trying to get up.

Harry made him lie down again so he could rest his head on his chest. He liked hearing his steady heartbeat.

“You still call him the Weasel!”

“Yeah, you have a point,” Draco said, relaxing against Harry.

“You know… for the first time, I actually realised I was gay. Different to their eyes and that there was a word for it. _Gay_. Before… Before I was just so obsessed by you and by this annoying habit we have, we get together and then something happens and we make a stupid decision and it tears us apart and… anyway. I hadn’t yet imagined what it would be like when we told everyone. I hadn't thought that it could get ugly or make our love sound so terribly wrong… And tonight, for a minute, I wondered if it was worth it.”

Harry sensed it when Draco stopped breathing abruptly and tensed. To reassure him, Harry slipped a hand under his shirt and touched his warm skin and scars softly as if he wanted to apologise again.

“And?” Draco asked nervously.

“And… After than damned minute of doubt passed, I would have gladly hit myself in the face. Of course it’s worth it. It’s worth the risks and the fights. I don’t care if my life becomes incredibly complicated starting from today, as long as you’re in it.”

Draco rolled on top of him, holding Harry’s hands firmly above his head.

“Can I fuck you in his bed?”

“You realise I was in the middle of a beautiful declaration, right?” Harry sulked. “And no, you can’t fuck me in his bed.”

“On the floor then? Or against the wall?”

Harry shook his head, laughing.

“You’re right,” Draco sighed. “With all these posters on the wall, it’d be like making love to you in public. I’m not really into that. And anyway, I can’t stay long. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“How nice of you but I know you just couldn’t spend a night without me.”

“I might regret coming here so don’t say anything more. You steal all the covers Harry, why wouldn’t I want to spend the night somewhere else?”

Harry smiled as Draco got back on his side of the bed and they started cuddling again.

“Love you, you know?”

Draco held him strongly and kissed his forehead.

“Of course I know, how could you not love me, I’m irresistible.”

Harry smiled and kissed Draco. It was a small one that wouldn’t lead to anything passionate (they were both too tired for that tonight) but that was more than alright with Harry. He knew they had the time to have sex any other night because they had a lifetime ahead of them.

“Don’t let me fall asleep okay? I just want to spend a couple more minutes with you and then I really need to get back home.”

“Okay, as long as you don’t let me fall asleep either,” Harry yawned and settled comfortably in Draco’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're worried, let me remind you that there will be a happy ending!  
> Thanks for all the comments, kudos, you never cease to amaze me, you are all so nice! I'm currently writing the ending of this story and while I have always known how it was going to end, I realised it might seem rushed compared to the rest of the story. If you see that I added another chapter, it's not because I want to stretch this story as much as possible, it's because there are still important things to say. This also leaves room for any suggestion you may have (so far, people asked for fluff, smut and romantic scenes) but if you want to see anything specific, let me know and I'll see if I can add it!


	24. Beginning

Harry woke up surrounded by heat and strong arms around him. He had fallen asleep with Draco last night even though he was supposed to go back to the Manor. He assumed that they had both been too comfortable to get up or even move from their warm nest under the covers.

The arms around him tightened their grip unconsciously and Harry realised his hand was still underneath Draco’s shirt, resting comfortably on his stomach while his head was hidden in the crook of Draco’s neck. Years later, he would still remember this moment as the first of many lazy mornings in bed with Draco, feeling comfortable and safe and exactly where he was supposed to be.

Memories of last night started coming back to Harry. Last night! Harry heard muffled steps in the hallways, whispers and people awakening. The Burrow was slowly coming to life. Harry should have panicked and woke Draco up, told him to hide in a closet (that would have been ironic) or under the bed but he didn’t. He smiled and stretched lazily, brought his face closer to Draco’s. He was still asleep, looking unguarded and peaceful. He wouldn’t mind waking up to see this every morning. If someone came then it didn’t matter. There are things that are simply too beautiful to miss.

Harry’s fingers itched to put a lock of hair behind Draco’s ear or tickle him but he let him sleep and watched him until his eyes finally opened. Suddenly, all he saw was grey. Even after the many years he had spent stalking Draco, he had never quite gotten over how beautiful his eyes were. And now… Now he got to see them as close as he wanted every day for the rest of his life.

Harry smiled against Draco’s shoulder and nuzzled his neck, letting him wake up slowly.

“Thank you for coming last night,” he whispered, leaving a small kiss on Draco’s lips.

“You’re welcome,” Draco answered groggily.

He hadn’t planned to sleep here so Harry guessed that he was probably a little grumpy. Or perhaps he was like that in the morning before drinking his coffee, he didn’t actually know. He couldn’t wait to learn all these little things, to surprise Draco with breakfast in bed once. He would choose the pastries Draco liked best, his favourite brand of coffee and bring a tray to their bedroom where they would eat and then start kissing and… But then, as he was picturing this in his mind, Harry noticed something on Draco’s face. A range of emotions, tenderness and something else he couldn’t quite recognize. Had Draco been thinking about the same future as him?

“What?” Harry asked.

“Nothing!” Draco answered, defensive.

Harry climbed on top of him and crossed his arms.

“Nothing?” he asked. “I don’t think so! You were going to say something and I want to know what that was.”

Draco frowned and tickled him until Harry moved to his side of the bed again, trying to get away. They resumed their former position, cuddling beneath the covers.

“I was just thinking,” Draco said. “You know, this… waking up with you… it’s quite nice, isn’t it? I mean… it’s…”

Harry couldn’t believe it, Draco was actually having trouble finding his words! That had never happened before. Harry smiled because he knew what he was trying to say, what he couldn’t say out loud yet. He kissed him quickly to shut him up because as much as he liked seeing Draco try so hard to explain what he wanted to say, Harry already knew everything.

It was precisely at that moment that the door opened and the smell of warm coffee and pastries filled the bedroom. However, these lovely smells weren’t the only things that came into the bedroom. Molly Weasley entered the room too.

* * *

Draco jumped out of bed, cheeks bright red and tried to put on his shoes while standing up and hysterically telling Molly he was going to leave right away:

“I just! I fell asleep. I came to… I mean, because of… Well! I slept with Harry but no _not like that_! I had my clothes on I swear! He had his own clothes on too!”

He was just making things worse but he was too panicked to see the look on Harry and Molly’s faces. They were both biting their lips and trying not to laugh. Draco drifted towards the window, ready to climb out without his jacket or his broom which was problematic considering the height.

“Have you learned to fly during the night, Draco?” Molly Weasley suddenly asked.

Draco finally stopped his clumsy explanations and looked at her, bewildered. Next thing he knew, she had invited him to breakfast. Just like that.

The door closed, Harry burst out laughing as Draco turned towards him, terrified.

“Do something!” Draco said.

“Like what?”

“I’m leaving. Just say something, anything! I even give you the right to tell them I’m sick.”

“You could also stay,” Harry said tentatively, his hand finding its way towards Draco’s.

Draco put a hand through his hair and sat down on the bed.

“And have breakfast with the Weasley family? Of course! My family has always insulted them, I can’t even imagine what kind of rubbish Father told Arthur Weasley when he met him at the Ministry back in the day. And there’s also your ex-girlfriend! Or your best friend who probably wants me dead! No, I care about my life too much to go there,” Draco stopped talking to take a breath and finally looked at Harry. “You seem disappointed.”

Harry, smile all gone, was now staring at the window and the grey clouds in the sky. He shrugged but he couldn’t hide the fact that he _was_ disappointed. He couldn’t help but think that maybe this would be a new beginning for all of them, maybe it would be the first step towards accepting that Draco was now a part of his life.

“I thought it might make things better,” Harry finally confessed.

“Why on Earth would it make things better?”

“You’re right, it was stupid. Only… Draco, if you just sneak out and refuse their invitation, it’s like you don’t even care that she’s trying to accept you. Don’t you think?”

Leaving now would have terrible consequences, Harry thought. Apparently, Draco seemed to think so too because he sighed and got up.

“Okay. But not for long.”

Harry smiled and laced his arms around Draco, hugged him so strongly that he almost fell back on the bed.

* * *

All the eyes turned to Draco when they both arrived in the kitchen. Curious ones, incredulous ones, angry ones even. Everyone was there but Ginny. Molly got up and kindly told them to sit down when she noticed they were both petrified. Despite what he had said earlier, Harry was uncomfortable and nervous, twisting his hands again and again. He knew this meeting might influence the rest of his life and of course, he was anxious because his surrogate family was finally able to properly get to know his boyfriend, someone they also used to hate.

“So, Draco, would you like something to drink?” Molly asked, breaking the silence.

Draco, usually very polite, didn’t quite seem to know what to answer. In any other circumstance, it would have made Harry laugh or at least smile but that day he was too tense, the stakes were too high.

“Er… yes, I’ll have what you’re having, if you don’t mind.”

A few people chuckled. Draco stared at Harry questioningly. Harry pressed his hand slightly and reminded himself to explain that Molly drinks violet flavoured tea with too much sugar and a cloud of milk which he was certain Draco would hate.

“He’ll have a coffee,” Harry corrected, smiling nervously, “no sugar.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to say,” Draco added nervously.

Harry cleared his throat loudly and made eye contact with everyone, something he had dreaded to do so far. George was sitting in front of him, smiling softly as if silently giving him his blessing.

“George,” Draco nodded. He nodded back and that was it. Molly put two fuming mugs of coffee in front of them and they each took a sip, eager to hide themselves behind the cups, burning themselves in the process.

“Careful, it’s very…” Molly warned but it was too late.

“Hot,” Harry finished.

“My tongue is now a dead thing,” Draco said, elbowing Harry. “Too bad for you.”

Ron became pale as a sheet and then bright red but not as much as Harry who couldn’t believe Draco. Was he like that when he was nervous? A ticking bomb that said everything that came to his mind?

Hermione, wise as she was, chose this moment to clear her throat and ask:

“So, how was Guernsey, Draco?”

“Windy, cold, unexpected. I needed to go there. I think we both did, didn’t we?”

Harry nodded and smiled. Things were starting to get normal, everyone was enjoying their breakfast and a light buzz filled the room as people started talking comfortably. The tension seemed to ease but then Draco started sneezing.

“Sorry, I’m allergic to cats and I think there were a few hairs on the pillow…”

“My pillow?” Ron roared.

And Harry knew they were screwed, Draco wouldn’t let this go. He knew him and his stupid pride too well.

“Very comfortable pillow, by the way. Thanks for letting us borrow your bedroom. It was so generous and open-minded of you! Honestly, I have to say, I might have jumped to conclusions when Harry told me how you reacted after the incident at the train station but you seem to have changed your mind! And as I was telling Harry this morning when we woke up, we probably won’t ever have the chance to sleep in a bedroom with that much orange everywhere! I was wondering, by the way, how long as it been since the Chudley Canons won any prize?”

“Over a century,” Ron groaned, fists clenched on the table. “Harry supports them too.”

“But I don’t think there are twenty-three posters of this particular team in his bedroom! I counted all of them you know.”

“Of course there aren’t any! Harry didn’t have a bedroom when he grew up and when he finally got one he was supposed to hide all his stuff from school because his uncle wouldn’t let him have anything magical! He _couldn’t_ have posters with moving Quidditch players on it!”

“Ron!” Mrs Weasley yelled.

 _Oh no_ , Harry thought. He hadn’t shared this particular detail about his life with Draco yet. He sighed.

“They made me sleep in a closet under the stairs,” Harry explained to a livid Draco, “and then they gave me a bedroom after my eleventh birthday.”

“You mean, innocent, little Harry slept in a cupboard?” Draco asked, suddenly sounding very mean and threatening.

At that moment the atmosphere around the table changed, people seemed surprised that Draco cared.

“We blew their fireplace off once,” George told Draco. “Just before the Quidditch World Cup. And we tested a few products on his cousin.”

“Wish I had been there,” Draco said. “They deserve much worse.”

“It was a good memory,” George added, “we laughed about it for weeks.”

“It’s in the past anyway. I don’t even know what happened to them after the war ended. Did they go back to Little Whinging? I never even thought about it.”

“We could check if you want,” Draco suggested, “George might have a few humiliating products to test before selling them, right?”

“Now that you mention it…”

Harry thought it was odd, seeing Draco and George speak to each other even if the subject was himself. They both cared about him and wanted to get back at Harry’s family for their abuse during his childhood. In a way, this reassured everyone because it showed how much Draco cared about Harry and on the other hand, it allowed Draco to see beyond their rough past and start fresh with the Weasley family.

“So, you too are really together? As in… In a relationship?” George asked warily.

Harry smiled and nodded. It felt so good to finally say it.

“I think it’s cute,” Fleur said, turning to her husband. “Don’t you think so too, my love?”

Bill didn’t answer. Harry thought he might still be thinking about Ginny, heartbroken and locked in her bedroom.

“It’s a shock, you mean,” George added, “I mean, on a scale from one to ten, what were the odds? One? That’s already too much. You guys hated each other, were on different sides of a bloody war!”

“I don’t know what to say…” Draco answered. “I pinch myself every morning but there’s nothing to do, he’s still there, he won’t go away.”

Harry laughed: “Of course I’m still there, you prat.”

“But how exactly did this happen?” Arthur Weasley asked in a kind voice.

They didn’t seem to mind that much, they were all just surprised, Harry realised. They all looked at him expectantly, especially Ron. He wanted answers.

“I don’t have an answer,” Draco said. “I can’t tell you exactly when things changed and I imagine that it might seem crazy to all of you. But I think we’ve always had _something_ between us and in Guernsey… When we got to know each other, it all changed. So, a word of advice, don’t ever go to Guernsey with someone you think you hate, you might actually end up liking each other!”

George laughed.

“Just joking!” Draco added when he noticed Harry’s frown.

And just like that, he bent down slightly and kissed Harry on the lips without thinking. In front of everyone. Of course, it seemed natural and that’s why Harry responded and didn’t even try to avoid it.

“Okay, that was weird. We’ll need time to adjust,” George said.

Ron got up so quickly his chair fell down. He threw his napkin on the table and walked away.

“I guess I probably shouldn’t have…” Draco began.

“Don’t. It’s okay, we’re not hiding anymore, we’re together and couples kiss and hold hands, it’s spontaneous. And it’s normal,” Harry answered, putting a comforting hand on Draco’s thigh.

“He’ll get used to it,” Molly added. “We will too. Harry’s happy, that’s all that matters to us.”

It was just as easy as that for her. Harry was relieved and grateful and he felt like he could burst with happiness. They had accepted him for who he was and they were ready to accept Draco too. The only thing missing was Ron.

“Is it okay if I go there and talk to him?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded and George told him he could come up to his bedroom/office/lab and help him with some potion ideas.

* * *

Talking with Ron had been… overwhelming. Harry was sitting down under the oak he used to go to when he needed to write during the summer, scarf hiding most of his face. It was cold outside but he didn’t really care, he needed a quiet place to think.

Thanks to their open-hearted conversation, he knew that Ron was not homophobic at all but angry at Harry because he had not told him about his relationship with Draco or even that he was attracted to men. Ron had accused him of not trusting him, an issue that had always been recurring in their arguments.

 _When have you stopped being my best friend?_ Ron had asked, tears in his eyes. _I feel like I don’t even know you anymore._

Harry hadn’t noticed how much they had drifted apart these last months and blamed himself for not seeing how much it affected Ron. He regretted not telling him the truth now but it was done now and he hoped they would be able to put the pieces of their friendship together again with time.

After a while under the oak, Harry saw a shape coming near him. He recognized Draco and waited till he arrived and sat down next to him. At first, he simply stayed next to him, shoulders brushing, waiting.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked.

“No, but I will be. It’s going to work out,” Harry answered, sure of himself.

He knew that as long as he had Draco and his friends, he was ready to face the world, the unknown, his sickness. He was convinced he wasn’t alone anymore.

“I know it will. It’ll be alright with Weasley. You two can’t stay mad at each other.”

Harry huffed, he agreed with that.

“So, are you going back to the Manor?” he asked after a moment.

Draco winced.

“Mother sent a Howler while you were gone, she said that if I were to sneak out, the least I could do was introduce her to the person I’m seeing.”

Harry thought that Draco’s mother was quite perspicacious, having discovered Draco snuck out to see him. Well, she didn’t know it was Harry yet which was a scary thought. One more person to tell, one more awkward conversation who could create a disaster.

“So you think I should go back to the Manor with you?”

“Well… Yes of course but only if you want to! I mean, Mother can be a bit overwhelming and while I believe she's aware of my preferences, we’ve never spoken of it before. It might be a shock.”

“Well, we have to tell her about us. Plus, I need to start living my life and I’ve got nowhere to go for now.”

Draco frowned. “You mean, we’ve got nowhere to go, right? You said you wanted us to live together and have a brand new place that’s just ours.”

Harry smiled and took Draco’s hand in his. It was warm as always.

“Is that something you’d want? Molly is probably going to say it’s too early and we haven’t been together that long…”

“Harry. We’ve lost enough time,” Draco said urgently.

Harry knew what he was implying. He was living on borrowed time, he didn’t know how long he had. He might have decades for all he knew but no one could be sure. The look on Draco’s face was different than everything he had already seen, he seemed determined, sad and angry at the same time. It was disconcerting to see him care so much about him.

“I know. And we need to start our lives.”

“Right. George said he needed help with a few potions for the shop so I’ll work with him and search for a job in the meantime.”

“You’re willing to work with a Weasley?”

“Well, they’re your family, right? And he’s got some rather smart ideas, I’d love to work on experimental potions like the ones he’s thinking about creating.”

Harry laughed. He was so glad Draco was beginning to understand just how much the Weasley family meant to him and was willing to give them a chance.

“Just don’t make anything explode, okay?”

Draco agreed but said that he couldn’t call Ron by his first name or stop thinking about him as the Weasel. Harry thought he had all the time in the world to fix that.

“Of course I won’t. I’m good at what I do. I don’t think it’ll be particularly hard to find a job. I can always work with Theo in his apothecary.”

“Why do you need a job? You’re even richer than I can imagine.”

“Well, that money can certainly help us get a good start, find a nice flat. But I want my own money, I don’t want to rely on someone. I need independence.”

Harry nodded; he knew the feeling. His parents and Sirius had left him quite a lot of money and he was glad to be able to start living on his own sooner than the other young adults he knew. Indeed, he didn’t have to worry about finding a job right away and had much more freedom than most of his friends but he didn’t want to stay inactive.

“I get it. So, we’ll say goodbye, pack our things and Apparate to the Manor. I’m not particularly keen on living there for a long time though,” Harry shuddered.

“Don’t worry,” Draco reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “an entire wing was moved to the bottom of the garden for me. It’s beautiful and no ghost will bother us there.”

Reassured, Harry closed his eyes and thought about how exactly he was going to tell Molly and the others he was going to spend the night at Malfoy Manor.

* * *

Fortunately, the Weasley family wasn’t too difficult to convince that going there would be a good thing for Harry. He told them the truth: he wanted to stay with Draco and start living with him because they both needed to turn the page and move on. Plus, they were in love and everybody saw that.

Molly did say that it felt quite rushed however Draco stepped in; he said he’d been harbouring feelings towards Harry for far longer than he’d care to admit and that they could be sure he’d be in good hands, no harm would come to him as long as he was there.

The entire family had been gobsmacked. Harry had simply blushed and taken Draco’s hand in his, silently thanking him for reassuring them. After that, they all had to admit that Draco’s intentions were remarkable. The only thing Harry was disappointed with was the fact that Ron hadn’t even showed up to say goodbye. Hermione had hugged him for a long time and told him to write every day. She had then turned around and told Draco to take care of Harry, make sure he took his potions and take him to the hospital if he couldn’t handle the side effects.

“You’ll see,” Molly said, both hands on Harry’s face, “Ron will come around soon enough. You know you’re always welcome here and I hope to see you every week for dinner.”

She took him in her arms, Arthur shook his hand and told him to take care of himself and George asked him to send an owl as soon as he was available to help him with the shop. Harry chuckled when Draco uncomfortably said goodbye and thanked Molly for her hospitality and kindness.

Just before leaving, Harry heard steps and saw Ron coming down from his bedroom, still looking grumpy and sulking but at least he was there. He stopped in front of Harry and said while staring at his shoes:

“I’m really sorry about how I reacted last night. It was a shitty thing to do, outing you like that.”

“Glad to see you’ve finally come to your senses,” Draco drawled.

Harry tightened his grip on the hand he was holding because he knew that Ron was still too upset to stay impassive and not react to Draco’s provocations. However, he was proved wrong when Ron simply gritted his teeth and looked up. Harry and Hermione couldn’t believe it.

“It’s okay, Ron,” Harry answered, willing to move forward, “everything worked itself out eventually.”

“So, really off to live with Malfoy then?”

Harry turned his head, watched his hand firmly held by Draco’s and then looked up to him as if he didn’t quite believe that he was actually there, by his side, willing to start a life with him.

“I guess I am,” he smiled.

“Will you have a home of your own by Christmas?” Hermione asked.

“Hopefully,” Draco answered.

“In the meantime, I’ll write every week and let you know how it’s going. And you’ll tell me all about your boring classes,” Harry added.

Ron sighed and Hermione reprimanded him, telling him school wasn’t boring at all. Harry simply laughed and told them that they hadn’t really changed all that much since their first year.

It was with a lighter mood that Harry finally stepped outside the Burrow, all his belongings in his trunk and his owl his hand.

“Ready?” Draco asked.

“Not sure. This is the moment when everything changes, right?”

Draco took Harry’s face into his hands like he had done so all these months ago on the train when Harry had had a panic attack.

“It has to change at some point. And at least, we’re together. Not letting you go anymore.”

Harry, relieved, got closer and draped his arms around Draco.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’m ready as long as you’re with me.”

He knew he wasn’t just talking about living together and coming out to Narcissa. Harry was also sure that as long as Draco was with him, nothing bad could happen. His sickness didn’t even seem scary anymore.

“Let’s go then,” Draco said, holding his hand to Harry.

Harry took it and together, they Apparated in front of Malfoy Manor’s silver gates. The last time he had crossed these, he would never have guessed that he would come back a few months later, willingly and with Draco Malfoy as his boyfriend. It would have seemed ridiculous to him. And yet here he was, happy, utterly besotted and ready to start living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love, you really are the best! I wanted to say that I might not be able to upload the new chapter next week because it isn't fully written yet and usually it takes more than a week for me to be happy with it. I prefer quality over hurried chapters!  
> PS: I added another chapter (again, I know) because I really want to write a full epilogue. I don't know yet how many years later it'll be or what it'll be exactly, it was a decision I made recently but I think it'll be a nice way to finish this fic!


	25. Crossing paths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you start reading, I just wanted to let you know that I’m so sorry for the delay. Endings have never been easy for me and this time wasn’t any different but I’m finally happy with what I wrote. I hope you enjoy this new chapter!

_Well, this evening has certainly been a lot nicer than I expected_ , Harry thought as he sat down on Draco’s comfortable bed.

There were countless pillows on it and the mattress was so soft it seemed to be made of clouds. Harry never wanted to get up again. He settled on the bed, pulling the sheets over his body. He looked around, eyeing the entire bedroom and relished in the feeling of comfort he sensed. They had an entire wing to themselves, away from the manor, the ghosts and the echoes of the war. Harry liked the bedroom especially because it was full of Draco, full of his books, his drawings and small signs of a previous and much different life.

Harry’s eyes drifted towards a wooden desk near the window. Parchments and quills were scattered all over it. He guessed it had been the place where Draco had written page after page in his diary. He couldn’t wait to ask Draco about all the memories that had taken place in here. Did he take his first steps in this very room? Was his mother there?

Narcissa Malfoy was an intriguing woman to say the least. Earlier this evening when the boys had arrived, she had welcomed them without blinking, not showing a single sign of surprise.

“Mother, I’m sure you know Harry,” Draco had said, hesitating slightly, fumbling with his words.

She had guided them inside the manor and had asked an elf to take their luggage. She had frowned but stayed unfazed.

“Of course I know who Harry Potter is, he testified at our trial. Have you forgotten already?”

Draco had put a hand on her arm to make her stop walking. She had turned around and watched as Draco laced his hand with Harry’s.

“You know him as the Boy Who Lived whereas I… I know someone different. I’d like you to meet Harry Potter, my boyfriend.”

Harry’s cheeks turned bright red. He had never been one to blush profusely but every time Draco referred to them as a couple, he just couldn’t help it. After all they’d been through, he didn’t think he could ever get tired of hearing it, of feeling completely overwhelmed by it.

“Oh,” was all Narcissa had said before smiling knowingly at the both of them. She had noticed hints at the trial but back then, everything was still new and unsure between the boys. She had then said she was glad for them and that they looked happy which was all that mattered.

After that, she had asked about Harry’s health, reprimanded Draco about leaving Hogwarts and the Manor without telling her and after that embarrassing moment, they all sat down in the dining room and had dinner. It was casual and light, something Harry never thought the Malfoys were capable of doing. Narcissa had however proved to be kind and understanding, never once judging her son or making Harry feel unwelcome.

Harry had excused himself early because he wanted to let Draco have some time alone with his mother. He guessed they probably wanted privacy to discuss business matters or to talk about Lucius, imprisoned in Azkaban. He didn’t want to intrude and he was pretty sure he would get bored if they talked about business and estate matters anyway. The least he could do was give Draco some time alone with his mother.

He said good night to Narcissa as warmly as he could manage and just before he left, he bent down and kissed Draco’s temple, just like that. Horrified, he wondered if it hadn’t been too soon. They hadn’t even talked about public displays of affection, especially not in front of any of Draco’s relatives. But all these concerns were unfounded; Draco beamed and kissed Harry’s palm.

“I’ll be there soon, you should go to bed if you’re tired,” he had whispered.

“I’ll wait for you. Thanks again for dinner, Mrs Malfoy.”

“Please, you must call me Narcissa. And don’t worry, I won’t keep Draco up here for too long.”

Harry had gone back to the Manor’s isolated wing, following a path that led right to the bottom of the garden.

When he had arrived in Draco’s bedroom, Harry had panicked for a brief instant. His trunk was there but it was empty. Had all of his belongings been accidentally vanished during Apparition? Surely not, Harry had never heard of such things.

Fortunately, it turned out his clothes were already put away in the part that had been cleared in Draco’s closet. He had taken his favourite pyjamas and headed to the bathroom. He had never seen such a big tub and smirked as he remembered his last relaxing bath. It had been an entertaining one to say the least. He hoped Draco would join him and make love to him again in this one too soon. Still smiling, Harry was looking for his toiletries when he noticed the two toothbrushes next to each other. It made Harry’s heart beat faster.

Finally, they were together.

* * *

When Draco got back, Harry was reading a book about Quidditch in bed.

“Finally holding it the right way,” he drawled.

Harry chuckled.

“Not fair. How was I supposed to read when all I could think about was you? And need I remind you that you also held your book upside down back in the train when we were going to Guernsey for the first time.”

Draco climbed on the bed next to Harry.

“Well, how was I supposed to read when all I could think about was you?” he smirked before kissing Harry softly.

He got up and headed to the bathroom, coming back fifteen minutes later showered and ready for bed.

“Have you seen the toothbrushes?” Harry asked as he snuggled close to Draco.

“Yes, I did. Though the first thing I saw was the tub. Have you seen that thing? I never noticed how big it was. We could easily fit in there and I bet none of the water would splash on the floor incase I get carried away again.”

Harry laughed. Having sex in the tiny tub of their hotel room back in Guernsey hadn’t been their brightest idea but it had been worth it.

“We haven’t even tried your bed yet,” Harry pointed out.

"Beds are fine too, you’re right. This one in particular. I had forgotten how nice it was.”

“It’s probably because I wasn’t in there with you yet.”

Draco held Harry, his strong arms tightening around him as if he didn’t ever want to let go.

“Harry, I spoke to my mother about our housing plans.”

Harry tensed and his fingers stopped rubbing circles over Draco’s chest. He noticed and took Harry’s hand in his.

“Don’t worry,” he continued. “She’s surprisingly okay with us. I think she just wants me to be happy. So, when I told her we’d be looking for flats, she said we actually owned one that hasn’t been used in years. It’s in Diagon Alley, close to Theo’s apothecary and George’s shop so it’ll be perfect. I know it’s not exactly what we discussed but I’ve never been there so it’ll be a new start for the both of us.”

Harry put his head on Draco’s chest, closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. He had been so scared Narcissa had changed her mind or said something mean about him to Draco. He knew that having his mother’s approval was important to him and didn’t want to cause him more pain. He was relieved and glad to have an opportunity to start anew with his boyfriend’s mother. She could very well become his mother-in-law after all.

“You know, I said I wanted to have a brand new home with you but actually I was wrong.”

“What? What do you mean you were wrong?” Draco asked, trying to get up.

Harry shook his head and pushed Draco back.

“Just let me finish. I realised it doesn’t matter where we live as long as we’re together. You are my home. I just want a place where we both feel comfortable and where we can invite all our friends and family. I doubt the Weasleys would ever come to the Manor but I wouldn’t even have minded all that much if we just stayed here actually.”

Draco slapped Harry’s arm playfully and resumed his position as a gigantic pillow.

“I thought you changed your mind, you stupid git. So, do you think it’s a good idea?”

“I mean, it’s currently empty and useless, we might as well check it out tomorrow and see if we like it.”

Draco smiled. “I was planning to meet Theo tomorrow anyway, see if his shop is already open.”

Harry yawned.

“Will you hold my hand in front of everyone in Diagon Alley?” he mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

Draco ran his hand through his hair and said yes. The last thing Harry thought he heard before falling asleep seemed to be “I’d do anything for you.”

* * *

When Harry woke up, he was alone in bed. He felt around for Draco’s warmth but didn’t find it so he grabbed his glasses on the nightstand.

“Draco?”

No answers. The sun was already high in the sky; they had slept late. Harry didn’t hear any noise coming from the bathroom. He thought about getting up but he heard the door open. Draco came in, carrying a breakfast tray.

“Oh no, you’re already awake, I wanted to watch you sleep a little longer.”

“I just woke up a minute ago, got scared when I couldn’t find you. Where were you?”

Draco sat down in the bed, putting the tray between them. They had a full English breakfast each as well as coffee, orange juice and various pastries. Harry wondered if he could even eat half of that. He still felt nauseous and dizzy from yesterday’s potions.

“I went to the Manor to tell Mother we were going to eat breakfast in bed and then head off to Diagon Alley to check out the apartment. I didn’t want to wake you up, you seemed exhausted last night.”

Harry winced. At least, he hadn’t fallen asleep during foreplay again.

“I’m so sorry. The potions I have to take are harder to get used to than I thought, I guess.”

Worry was etched upon Draco’s face.

“Harry, don’t ever apologise about the things that are keeping you alive, okay?”

Harry nodded and sat up. Draco handed him a piece of toast which Harry bit. He found that eating wasn’t so bad when Draco was feeding him. They continued eating in bed, lazily reading the paper out loud to each other when they found interesting articles. Harry found one about flying frogs that had been scaring Muggles and couldn’t stop laughing about it. Draco joined him and together they watched the moving photograph depicting flying frogs chasing after a family.

 _I’ve never seen anything more beautiful_ , he thought as he watched a shirtless Draco run a hand through his short hair, turn his head to Harry and smile.

* * *

A few hours later, they were both ready to check out their possible new flat. Harry felt queasy after taking his potions; they had to Floo right in because Apparition would’ve made him sicker.

The first things Harry noticed were the large windows and the brightness of the flat. He hadn’t expected such a modern layout, brand new furniture and big spaces. In the living-room there was a comfortable looking couch and from where he was standing, he could already see the dining room. He liked that everything was open.

“First impressions?” Draco asked.

Harry stepped in, felt something padded beneath his feet and noticed that a huge brown rug was covering the wooden floor. He wanted to take off his shoes and let himself get carried away in the feeling of home and warmth this place gave out. He pictured it in his mind, him drinking a warm tea on the couch, Draco joining him and then the both of them lying down on the rug in front of the fireplace, taking their clothes off and… Harry stopped daydreaming.

“It’s all so open and so different than what I had in mind. It’s great, it’s like I gave you the memory of a dream and you watched it in a Pensieve and created this place according to what you saw.”

Draco smiled and led him to the kitchen while explaining why the Malfoys hardly ever used that flat.

“It used to be rented but the tenants left a few years ago for some reason. Mother didn’t bother looking for new ones and simply let the place as it was. House elves come now and then to clean it but otherwise it’s just empty.”

They checked out the kitchen and one of the bathrooms. Draco then showed him a spiral staircase which led to the bedrooms. There were two of them, one connecting to a dressing room and a bathroom.

“You Malfoys really do have a taste for luxury things, we don’t need this huge dressing room!”

“Well, it’s there, might as well use it,” Draco answered playfully. “I take it you like this bedroom?”

Harry nodded. The other one was smaller and could be turned into a desk whereas this one… Harry could picture himself in here, waking up next to Draco every morning, the smell of coffee invading his nostrils.

“Yeah, I really do. I feel like this could be a home for us.”

Draco moved closer and took Harry’s hand in his. Together, they watched people stroll about and enter shops in Diagon Alley. The windows were charmed so that no one could actually see the inside of the flat and they were also soundproof. With absolutely no sound coming in, they had to imagine the chatter and the customers’ satisfied laughs but other than that, they could almost feel the street being alive below them.

“I thought you might not like how busy it is around here,” Draco mentioned.

“I thought so too but the wards are strong and I feel quite safe here. Besides, if we ever feel like being away from everything, we can always go back to your bedroom at the bottom of the garden.”

Draco chuckled: “That we can. So, should I ask the House Elves to bring our stuff here so we can unpack tomorrow? Isn’t it too soon?”

“Why should we wait? If you like the flat too then we should move in.”

“I do like it. It feels special, doesn’t it?”

Harry thought so too, the place was nice and he could consider it like his home. However, it wasn’t particularly thanks to the way it was arranged, in fact it was because everywhere he looked he saw himself and Draco. He could imagine them receiving friends in the dining room, entertaining Ron and Hermione with stupid jokes about adventures in Guernsey. He closed his eyes and there he was, cuddling on the couch with Draco in front of the fireplace, a dog at their feet. He saw them kissing, arguing, cooking together… If he let himself be honest, he could even hear a baby’s giggles and children bursting into laughter while playing with a puppy.

Regardless of how pleasing these images were, he also couldn’t help but let his mind wander elsewhere. He thought about the potions he had to take every morning and the way his body was slowly but surely shutting off. Moving in with Draco was bittersweet. Deep down, he knew that it wouldn’t last forever.

He thought, _all my life, I’ve been sacrificing myself for others, I’ve been fighting and struggling and losing so much. Why couldn’t it be enough? Don’t I deserve peace?_

That nagging thought wouldn’t leave him alone now that he had so much to live for.

* * *

After a lovely late lunch with Draco, Harry headed towards George’s shop. It was the middle of the afternoon already, the streets were busy. They had lingered in the restaurant even though Harry hadn’t been able to eat very much. They had chatted a lot and shared smiles and brushed hands on the table where everyone could see.

Harry couldn’t quite believe they were moving in together and being open about their relationship in public but when their waitress brought them a candle and put it on their table with a shy knowing smile, he knew it’d be alright. Some people might not be okay with their romantic involvement, they might receive a few Howlers but Harry had faith in people. He even had a little bit of it for the Daily Prophet which had been entirely restructured after the war.

So far, no one had been rude to him as he walked in Diagon Alley. A few kids had pointed their chubby fingers at him, others had asked him for an autograph. Nothing out of the ordinary. Harry had also made sure people didn’t bother Draco on his way to Theo’s apothecary by accompanying him despite his heavy protests. Harry had put a hand on his arm and said: “what’s wrong with wanting my boyfriend to be safe and spending more time with you?” Draco hadn’t had anything to reply.

He arrived in front of Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes and came in through the back; George hadn’t opened the shop to the public yet. He was at his desk, furiously scribbling on a parchment. There were piles of boxes all around him and sketches of new products glued to the walls.

“Hey George!” Harry said.

George hadn’t even noticed him. His face brightened when he saw him and he welcomed him warmly.

“I still can’t thank you enough for helping me reopen this shop. You can’t imagine how much it means to me…” he started.

Harry held a hand to brush off George’s rambling.

“It’s Fred’s legacy and I’ve always liked your shop. I gave you the money to start it, remember? I’ve always been your number one supporter, it’s not about to change now. Thank you for giving me a job.”

George shrugged. “You’re family. And well, having Harry Potter working as a salesman can’t hurt, you know?”

Harry laughed. The shop had already acquired a good reputation but with Harry’s fame, they were sure to attract a lot more customers from all over the world.

“So,” Harry started, wiping his hands on his jeans, “where do I start? Do you need me to open these boxes?”

George nodded and told him he’d work a bit more on his new products and that he’ll be coming to help unpack in a few minutes. Harry set to work, cast _Wingardium Leviosa_ on the boxes and headed to the shop. However, his charm wavered and the boxes fell before he could get there.

“What?” Harry muttered, puzzled.

Then, he remembered his Healer told him he might experience issues with his magic as a side effect of his potions. He hadn’t expected to be confronted to this issue; it had never happened to him before. He had started taking his potions weeks ago, was he supposed to just wait for new side effects to develop every other day?

Undefeated, Harry decided to carry the boxes himself. However, he barely managed to take a few steps before his legs and arms gave in. Out of breath, he fell and the boxes scattered all around him. Still, he wouldn’t give up and was trying to put the products that had fallen back into the boxes when George found him.

“Harry? Harry, what’s wrong, are you okay?”

Harry stopped what he was doing and slumped on the floor. George knelt beside him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Merlin, I can’t even carry some boxes, can’t even cast a simple charm…”

“I thought you were healed?”

Harry snorted and told him about the potions, the cold that was under control but only for now.

“It’s bad, George, it’s really bad,” Harry confessed. “I can feel it. The potions… They’re not going to cut it for long. They already take so much out of me. The Healers all said I would adjust but I think they knew I would never recover.”

George’s face was unreadable but his hand was still on Harry’s shoulder, reassuring. He helped him get up, stored the boxes away and made him a cup of tea. They talked a bit more but Harry was exhausted and wanted to go home more than anything.

George offered to walk him back to his flat and they left the shop together. Harry invited George in but he refused politely and said he needed to go back to the shop to work while his ideas were still fresh in his mind. He made sure Harry was alright and offered to go get Draco.

“Don’t bother him, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry, George, I’m sure he’ll be there soon.”

Harry was stubborn and managed to get George going after promising him to do nothing but rest. True to his promise, he went straight to the couch. The fire burned bright and a plaid kept him warm. Just before he lay down, he noticed that the House Elves had already brought his and Draco’s suitcases in the entrance. They were officially moving in. Pleased with that thought, Harry decided he deserved a nap while he waited for Draco.

* * *

George Weasley was worried. When he had seen Harry on the floor, pale as death, having trouble breathing, it had brought him back to a place he was trying to escape. It made him think of Fred. He’d be revolted by this, he’d say that Harry didn’t deserve any of this. Fred was a man who did not accept injustice and he would have fought to get Harry the peace he deserved.

George would have agreed with him. He knew that he hadn’t been a good friend to Harry lately. He had spent too much time locked in his bedroom or ignoring his owls, overwhelmed with grief and sorrow at the mere idea of living without his twin. However, he had recently realised that Fred would have wanted him to keep going, to keep inventing new products for their shop and most importantly, he would have wanted George to help their friends.

George couldn’t lose anyone else. He just couldn’t. And Harry, a boy who had given _so much_ to save the Wizarding World, deserved to be happy and healthy.

George hadn’t been this determined in a while. He didn’t know how yet but he was going to cure Harry and be done with this misery that kept following him around. No more moping, no more sadness. _Fred deserves better than that too,_ George thought.

While they were drinking tea, Harry had mentioned that Draco was working with Theodore Nott in his apothecary so George headed there, his pace quick and his steps assured. Through the shop window, he saw Draco and his friend moving things around, adjusting shelves. He breathed in and out, trying without success to calm his nerves, and pushed the door open.

“Sorry,” Theodore Nott started when he heard the shop’s doorbell, “we’re not open yet, you should…”

Draco turned around and frowned.

“Wait,” Draco interrupted, “this is George Weasley, he was at Hogwarts with us. Is Harry okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry, he’s fine. He went home early, he was tired and… Well, there was a little incident at the shop today which is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Intrigued and worried, Draco and Theo invited George upstairs where he started telling them what had happened this afternoon. Gradually, the worry on their faces became serious.

“Merlin,” Draco said, “I thought it was bad but… I never imagined he was having issues with his magic. This is much worse than I expected. We can’t just leave him like that.”

“No,” Theo agreed, “we can’t. But I’ve never heard of any disease that remotely resembles Harry’s. It’s a first. And his potions seem to be quite complicated, I don’t know if it’s even possible to diminish the side effects of such rare ingredients.”

George sighed and put his head in his hands. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. However, when he sat straight and saw the look on Draco’s face he was sure they’d find a way. Love is stronger than any magic, any curse, any pain. Draco wouldn’t ever give up on Harry and he’d do anything in his power to cure him.

“I will not just sit there and watch him wither and die. We _can’t_ let him die. He’s been through too much. We have to do this for him,” Draco said.

“Well then, I think we've got research to do,” George answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading and sticking with me this whole time! Now we’re into some serious business about Harry’s illness!  
> You can find me on Tumblr, I’ll post updates about when the new chapter is going to be published (hopefully very soon!): casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com


	26. Soulmates

Harry woke up when he heard the front door open and the jangling of keys. Then he heard footsteps and sat up on the couch, wrapping the warm plaid around him. He had had a nice nap by the fire and was feeling much better.

“Harry, are you home?” Draco asked.

“I’m here, on the couch!”

Draco arrived and deposited two plastic bags on the table. He sat down next to Harry, grabbed his feet and put them over his own legs.

“Are you okay?”

Harry nodded. He noticed that Draco still seemed wary and worried; his frown hadn’t disappeared. However, he didn’t elaborate and changed the subject. Harry deemed it odd but didn’t say anything either.

“I remembered you liked Chinese food best so I went to that Muggle restaurant around the corner and brought take out. I thought it’d cheer you up to eat something you _really_ like.”

Harry smiled. It was true that he loved Chinese food much more than any other; Draco had been thoughtful and dedicated as always. He wasn’t hungry but when a nice smell finally caught up to him, he had to admit he would love to try a few bites.

“You went to a Muggle restaurant all by yourself for me? Did you even have pounds on you?”

“Theo had some. He even explained how it worked so I’m an expert now.”

Harry chuckled. Right, as if he was going to believe that. Draco didn’t know the difference between Muggle paper and notes. The new so-called Muggle expert levitated plates and glasses from the kitchen and handed one of each to Harry. They started eating on the couch, casually tasting each other’s food and talking about their respective days.

Harry made fun of Draco when he got upset because he never managed to get his food all the way to his mouth with chopsticks. He was about to summon a fork when Harry finally gave in and showed him how to hold them properly, deft fingers moving around Draco’s. They were sitting so close they shared warmth.

They finished eating and resumed their previous position on the couch, Draco kindly massaging Harry’s feet. He knew he needed to tell Draco about his accident at George’s shop but he had something else in mind.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” Harry suggested.

Draco tightened his grasp on the feet he was massaging, worried: “Are you tired again? Are you in pain?”

Harry blushed: “No.”

Draco seemed puzzled and knitted his brows but then his eyes opened in understanding and he sucked in a breath.

“Oh.”

Harry laughed and held a hand to Draco. He took it and together they climbed the stairs to their bedroom. On the way there, Harry couldn’t help but shiver and speed up. As soon as they were in, he closed the door and kissed Draco, hands running through is hair, exploring his back, disappearing under his shirt.

“Someone’s wide awake tonight,” Draco said between frantic kisses, pushing Harry back against the door.

“I had a nap,” Harry explained and raised his arms so that Draco could take his jumper off.

They were kissing again. Draco brought Harry closer and almost carried him while legs wrapped around his waist. They moaned as their crotches brushed, took off their belts and opened their trousers, hands slipping inside their respective underwear.

“Should we do it right here or is the bed better?”

Harry thought about his sore muscles from his fall today and said he wanted the bed.

“Isn’t the bed too mundane for you though?”

Harry pushed Draco back towards their king size bed and they fell on it, laughing. They resumed undressing and soon they were making out naked.

“Want you inside,” Harry gasped into his mouth. “Make love to me.”

That always made Draco lose his mind. Back in Guernsey, after a night spent making love, he had told Harry he loved the fact that he was so _willing_ , so trusting when he invited him in his body.

“Merlin, Harry. How do you want it this time? On your stomach?”

Harry nodded and turned around. They hadn’t tried it this way yet. Draco’s hands roamed all over his back, massaging the knots in his shoulders. Harry exhaled, feeling the soreness in his muscles fade away.

“You’re tense. How about a massage first?”

Harry agreed. Draco summoned some oil he had brought from his previous bedroom; it smelled like sunlight and vanilla. He set to work and in a few minutes, his boyfriend was incoherent, sprawled on the mattress, limbs all loose.

“Does it feel good?”

Harry hummed in agreement. He felt better than he had in years; relaxed, his guard completely down. He forgot about everything and let himself feel rather than think. Draco’s hands wandered lower; Harry gasped and spread his legs almost unconsciously.

Draco put a pillow under Harry’s hips and spread his cheeks. He waited for the feeling of being completely exposed and naked to come but it didn’t, it just seemed _right_.

“Draco, come on, please.”

Harry raised himself on his elbows, giving Draco a perfect view of his most private body parts. He listened to Harry’s wish without teasing him beforehand and lubed his fingers before breaching him.

“I forgot how good this felt,” Harry muttered.

The truth was, he was getting more and more used to it and there was no pain whatsoever, just a small discomfort perhaps. Harry relished that feeling anyway, the fullness was strange but somehow soothing. He was so relaxed he didn’t even clench or tense like he did the first times.

“It’s only been a few days,” Draco chuckled, concentrated on moving his fingers slowly as to not hurt Harry.

Harry’s breathing was ragged, he was clutching the sheets and rocking back on Draco’s fingers.

“I want…” Harry started, panting, “I want you, please.”

Draco reluctantly pulled out his fingers and lubed himself. He had been captivated by the way Harry writhed on the bed, body glistening with sweat and accepting his fingers.

“You’re so beautiful, so responsive! I want to see if I can make you come with just me inside you.”

Harry was sure he could. He was aware of Draco’s erection tracing the crease of his arse and was certain he could come like this as well. He arched his back, trying to get more.

“You just want this _so much_ ,” Draco continued, voice filled with awe.

He slid in, slowly, hands keeping Harry’s cheeks apart. Harry had to see this so he angled his head in an awkward angle and saw Draco’s grey eyes riveted on his stretched entrance, watching his cock disappear into his willing body.

“Oh, ugh,” Harry tried to articulate.

He couldn’t speak, he was reduced to making meaningless noises that resembled whines and to lie there and _take it._ He loved watching Draco as they made love more than anything and while it was difficult considering their position, he also enjoyed the new angle and how deep Draco could get. On his stomach, Harry was at Draco’s mercy and he loved it.

“You’re taking me so well, Harry, you’re so good” Draco praised as he bottomed out.

Draco’s hands left the cheeks he was holding apart and pinned Harry’s hands over his head, stretching all over him to do so. He kept Harry’s legs spread apart with his own and started thrusting. All the way out, all the way in. The pace was slow but the thrusts were assured and deep; each time Draco hit Harry’s prostate just hard enough to make him see starts.

“Fuck me, come on, fuck me, please, I love it, love you,” Harry muttered, lost in pleasure.

Draco’s hips started moving faster while he showered Harry’s face with kisses, inhaling deeply in his hair, hiding his face in the crook of his neck. The pleasure was so intense for both of them yet they didn’t want to stop yet; they gasped and rocked on the bed endlessly.

Harry tried to warn Draco he was close but he was way beyond speech to do so. He just moaned loudly and let all the sensations wash over his body; Draco pining him down, kissing his neck, fucking him just like he needed it.

“Are you mine, Harry, are you all mine?” Draco asked, breathless.

The idea of belonging to him nearly sent Harry over the edge yet he was incapable of coming without looking at Draco. He turned his head with difficulty again and _watched_. His stare was always so… shameless. He didn’t need dirty talk or to moan uncontrollably, he just gave Draco a look that said: look, look at what you do to me. He came harder than he imagined was even possible and without laying a hand over his erection.

“Yes, yes, yours,” Harry cried out as he came.

Draco managed to keep thrusting for a few minutes despite Harry’s words and his clenching muscles. He listened to Harry’s pleas, telling him to come inside, to fill him up… And he shuddered and thrusted one last time before emptying himself inside him. His knees gave away and he collapsed on top of Harry, his breathing erratic.

Harry didn’t even mind, he was still trying to come back to Earth himself but he soon realised he was lying in the wet spot. He nudged Draco with his elbow to make him move. Grudgingly, he pulled out and lay on his side of the bed, arms open to welcome Harry.

As soon as they were cuddling and had their breathing under control, Draco kissed Harry’s temple and his right hand drew circles in the small of Harry’s back.

“That was astonishing,” he whispered. “I hope I wasn’t too rough though.”

Harry intertwined their legs and leaned on his elbow to come up to Draco’s face. He put his hand on his cheek and willed himself to sound as genuine as he could.

“Draco, I’ve never felt so good in my life, I swear. I like it when you get a little rough and I wouldn’t mind if, you know, we tried a couple of new things.”

“Oh, really?” Draco smirked. “I’ve always wanted to see you, hands bound with a Slytherin tie. Would you let me do that to you?”

He thought about it for a second and if he hadn’t just come, he would’ve gotten aroused by the mere idea of being tied to the bed with one of Draco’s ties while he had his way with him. Harry put his head on Draco’s chest and covered them with their sheets.

“Yeah, we could do that. I trust you.”

Draco nuzzled his face and put his index under Harry’s chin to make him look up.

“I trust you too,” Draco said, staring at him expectantly.

Harry didn’t want to ruin the afterglow but it was the perfect moment to tell Draco about his accident today at George’s shop but he didn’t know where to start. He decided to simply jump in:

“Draco, there’s something I need to tell you.”

He sighed and let his head drop on his pillow, closing his eyes. “I know… I was waiting for you to tell me. George came by the shop today.”

“What? He told you that I couldn’t cast a simple spell?”

Draco nodded. “He was worried. He said we had to find a way to cure you, really cure you.”

Harry tensed. His mind wandered to St Mungo’s, to Healer Nelson at his bedside, telling him about another solution that wouldn’t require any potion… Harry had said no. It was too dangerous. “ _And if those unpleasant side effects were to last, you know there’s always the other solution,_ ” Healer Nelson had said.

“There’s nothing you can do, Draco.”

“If you think for one second that I will just let you suffer until your body can’t handle the potions anymore, you’re wrong,” he shot back, hands tensing where they were drawing circles on Harry’s bare skin.

Draco had trouble hiding the tremors in his voice and suddenly he rolled away, disengaging from Harry’s arms. He tried to make him turn back, hand caressing his pale cheek, eyes soft.

“Draco, please, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he did. His eyes were red and he was biting his lip.

“I can’t lose you, Harry. I can’t. You’ve read my diary, you know how much I…” Harry gathered him in his arms. He told him he knew and held him. They stayed there for a long time, listening to the other breathing, hands clasped together. He thought they were going to fall asleep like this when Draco said in a small voice:

“Remember when you told me you thought there was something special between us? That the cold wasn’t so bad when I was with you? I think you were right and I was stupid not to listen.”

Harry’s heart sank and he willed himself to stay calm, keep his breathing regular. He finally believed him and yet Harry couldn’t tell him the truth. How unfair it all seemed. He also knew Draco would be willing to try and save him even if the procedure was extremely dangerous and the odds he might die were high.

“Draco…”

“I need to meet your Healer,” he interrupted, “I’ll ask if he can run a few tests to see if there’s anything special about us. I’ll do anything, Harry.”

“I know you would and it means so much to me. But I already asked, there’s nothing they can do except give me the potions. I was just imagining things.”

Draco stared at him dubiously. Harry was sure he knew something was up but thankfully he let it go for the evening and didn’t answer. He kissed Harry goodnight and turned off the lights.

“I think there’s something special about us anyway,” he muttered when he thought Harry was sleeping.

They fell asleep, limbs intertwined, hands clasped as if they didn’t ever want to let go.

* * *

The first thing Harry noticed when he woke up was the guilt that was crushing him. He remembered his lie and how terrible he had felt right after the words escaped his mouth.

“ _There’s nothing they can do,_ ” he had said. He had lied straight to Draco’s face. How could he forgive himself for that? What made things even worse was that Draco was only trying to help him.

The second thing he noticed was that he was alone and all cleaned up, probably thanks to a spell that Draco had kindly cast. He stretched on the bed and saw his own wand laid on the bedside table. He cast a Tempus and was pleased to notice that the spell had worked; it was 8.45 AM. According to the time, he guessed that Draco was probably making breakfast and would come up any minute.

“ _Accio_ potions,” he tried, refreshed by his successful Tempus.

They flew right in. He had grown accustomed to the taste and swallowed them without blinking. A few minutes later, Harry heard someone climbing the stairs and opening the bedroom door. It was Draco, all dressed and carrying a breakfast tray.

“You made breakfast for me, again?” Harry asked, smiling.

“Well, there are no House Elves here so I didn’t exactly make it, I just went to the bakery next door.”

“You lazy git,” Harry chuckled. “Is it too much to ask to wake up in your arms for once though?”

Draco took off his coat and hanged it. He climbed on the bed, taking off his shoes.

“I thought I’d let you sleep. You looked so peaceful this morning. And you deserve breakfast in bed after last night.”

Harry blushed. He realised he was naked and Draco fully clothed; he felt self-conscious about it now that his mind wasn’t clouded by arousal. Draco had followed his train of thought and picked up his boxer briefs from the floor, handing the item to him.

“I already saw everything there is to see a long time ago, Harry.”

Still, Harry didn’t felt comfortable with his scrawny body in the open light. The last months hadn’t been easy on him at all and he had gotten even thinner than before. He pulled the sheets up to his chin which made Draco shake his head, looking at him with a fondness that was barely hidden.

“I told you last night, I think you’re beautiful. You need to gain some weight, sure, but to me you’re… breathtaking,” Draco told him. “Just seeing you makes me want to stay in bed with you and make love to you again but I’ve got to get going.”

Harry was already thinking about pulling Draco back in his arms, legs spreading to accommodate him when he heard the end of the sentence. He couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“What? Where are you off so early?”

“Theo’s apothecary. We’ve got work to do.”

“Is he hiring you then?”

“Well, it’s not official yet but he hinted at it yesterday before George came.”

Harry pouted. He didn’t want to be alone today and he didn’t quite feel up to working with George either. He didn’t want to burden Draco though, it was his future job they were talking about and he needed to go.

“Okay then. Can I join you for lunch?” Harry asked.

"Sure. Come by the shop and we’ll eat somewhere.”

“We can’t keep eating at the restaurant everyday! I’ll go shopping for groceries.”

Draco nodded. “That gives you something to do this afternoon then. Eat your breakfast!”

Harry shooed him away with a quick kiss and eyed the tray morosely. He ate a little and drank his coffee. His lack of hunger wasn’t caused by the potions this time but by the guilt that was crushing him. He knew he had done the right thing because he wanted to protect Draco more than anything. He just wasn’t sure Draco would see it that way when he found out.

He would find out sooner than later. Harry was sure of it. Last night, he hadn’t managed to convince him and it was just a matter of time before he discovered the truth. Hopefully by that time he’ll have no side effects and feel better.

 _Come on, you know you will never get better_ , a nagging voice in his mind reminded him.

Harry shrugged it off and got up. He showered because cleaning spells were useful but not quite thorough. He changed the sheets and tried to look for a washing machine for their dirty clothes. Obviously, the flat had been swarming with House Elves before and the wizards who rented it had no need for Muggle devices. Harry sighed and took off the the dry-cleaner’s.

When he came back, he found that he had nothing else to clean or take care of yet, the House Elves had perfectly taken care of the flat. He wondered what he could do to take his mind off of things and thought about Ron and Hermione.

He missed them a lot. He knew they had to finish their schooling but that soon enough they would see each other again. Ron would learn to accept Draco eventually and they would all have dinner together on the weekends, they could even go on vacations together. Harry liked imagining this future. In the meantime, he decided to write a letter to the both of them, describing his new flat and sending them his love. He avoided talking about his health though, he didn’t want them to worry too much.

* * *

Draco hadn’t lied. He _was_ going to Theo’s shop. He just wouldn’t stay there to work.

He knocked on the apothecary’s door, feeling anxious and impatient. Theo appeared a few minutes later and invited Draco in. He sighed and put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Are you up for this?” he asked.

“Do we have a choice? Thanks again for coming with me, it means a lot.”

Theo nodded and headed to the staircase at the back of the shop. They arrived in his flat, took a handful of Floo powder and disappeared into the flames.

The first thing Draco noticed when he stepped out was the distinctive smell of disinfectant that he associated with illness and hospitals. He hadn’t come to St Mungo’s in years and he dreaded the place already, dreaded the pitiful moans and screams and tears of the families huddled together in front of a loved one’s room.

“Did you get the name of the Healer?” Theo asked as he stepped out of the fireplace.

“Yeah, I looked for Harry’s discharge papers this morning while he was asleep. It’s Healer Nelson.”

Theo whistled. “Going through your boyfriend’s stuff now?”

“Theo, you and I both know this is a life or death matter.”

Draco just didn’t want to admit that it had indeed felt wrong when he had searched through Harry’s letters. He hadn’t read any, concentrating mainly on those which came from the hospital and had done the deed as quickly as possible, only searching for a Healer’s name.

“I know, I was just teasing. Come on, let’s ask a nurse where his office is.”

After a few minutes talking to a kind nurse whose badge tag indicated “Amy”, they followed her directions, arrived in front of the Healer’s office and knocked. A deep voice told them to come in. Healer Nelson raised his head from the parchments he was scribbling on and frowned.

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” he asked.

“I’m Draco Malfoy and this is my friend Theodore Nott. We’re here because of Harry Potter.”

The Healer, suddenly alert and worried, invited them to sit down and closed the door with a flick of his wand, casting a Silencing spell around them as well.

“We can never be too sure,” he explained. “Harry Potter doesn’t need the Daily Prophet on his back, he’s got enough on his plate already.”

Draco huffed; it was the least that could be said.

“And who might you be?” he asked. “I’m only allowed to speak to his next of kin.”

“He doesn’t have relatives,” Draco said, gritting his teeth. “We are all he has and you know perfectly well who I am to him, he told you about me and what we were doing when his heart stopped!”

Draco was about to threaten him so Theo stepped in:

“Healer Nelson, we’re just worried about Harry. It seems his potions are making him quite ill and he’s having trouble with his magic.”

Healer Nelson nodded sadly.

“Ah, this was what we all feared. We told him he’d adjust to his potions because we didn’t want to scare him off, we needed to give him hope you see… That’s the most important factor in recovery. But if his magic is affected now…”

“What? You’re saying that you lied to him?” Draco asked, raising his voice.

Healer Nelson shook his head with such vigor Draco thought his obvious wig was going to fall on the floor.

“No, not at all! We just knew that he needed to be optimistic in order for the treatment to work.”

“But it doesn’t work so you must’ve missed something when you made the potions. Draco and I are both excellent at making potions, we can figure something out if we all work together.”

Healer Nelson sighed again and crossed his hands over his desk.

“What I am about to tell you is strictly confidential and will probably sound extremely dangerous,” he warned, almost whispering despite the Silencing charms in place.

“It doesn’t matter,” Draco shrugged.

Healer Nelson nodded and started explaining what exactly had happened to Harry:

“Before you two start working on a project that goes way beyond your abilities and that is doomed from the beginning, I think you need to know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

Draco knew he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear.

“What happened to Harry isn’t simply the consequence of the Killing Curse. It’s also related to You-Know-Who’s soul being torn apart from his own. What we’ve all deduced (my renewed colleagues and I) is that, during the tearing, Harry’s soul was severely damaged. The cold that’s slowly killing him is a symptom of insufficiency; it’s my understanding that Harry has been living most of his life with a piece of another soul inside him so he needs something else to fill the void it left behind.”

“Is that even possible?” Theo asked.

Draco held his breath.

“Yes, it’s possible. It’s dangerous and experimental but possible.”

“How?” Draco asked in a whisper.

“Well, we’d need to bind his soul to another one…”

Draco closed his eyes. He had not been expecting this. He had thought about expensive treatments and new complex spells or even new experimental potions to replace Harry’s current ones.

“You mean, with my soul?”

Healer Nelson moved about on his chair nervously.

“It is indeed the safest bet. It seems Harry’s soul has already chosen yours a long time ago. He told me you were the only one able to provide warmth for him.”

Harry had been right all along. He couldn’t wait to tell him. He didn’t even care that Harry was probably going to say “I told you so” or rub it in for months. Draco actually liked being wrong for once. From now on, he swore to always have more faith in Harry.

“And do you know how to do that?” Theo asked.

“Myself, no,” Healer Nelson chuckled. “But some wizards do.”

Draco should’ve felt relief at the idea of having a long term solution to save Harry, the weight on his chest should’ve left him instantly but it was somehow still clinging to him. Something just didn’t add up.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell Harry about this solution instead of poisoning him with potions that don’t even work?”

“But I did tell him. Over and over during his stay but his answer never changed, he always refused. It’s a very complicated spell, Mr Malfoy, and it has never been used before. One mistake and it could suck your entire soul out or kill you both. Harry didn’t want to put your life at risk.”

Hurt filled Draco. He couldn’t believe this. Harry wouldn’t keep something like this from him.

“Harry knew?” Draco asked, legs shaking slightly.

_Why didn’t he tell me? Did he think I would say no?_

“Yes, Harry knew.”

* * *

Draco stumbled out of St Mungo’s, desperately searching for fresh air. Theo was by his side, looking as shaken as him.

“I can’t believe him,” Draco said. “I can’t believe he lied about something so important.”

“He just wanted to protect you.”

Draco glared at him so Theo held up his hands in defense:

“I’m not taking his side! I’m just saying. Of course not telling you is stupid and besides, that Healer seems quite incompetent. He’s not trained to deal with such rare illnesses and much less deal with soul issues.”

People were coming in and out of St Mungo’s, walking around them and staring. Draco was still the son of a notorious Death Eater after all.

“Come on, we can’t talk about this here. Let’s go to George’s shop, he should hear about this too,” Draco suggested.

They Apparated to the shop where George was still working on his new products designs. He opened the door for them and invited them in the minute he saw their worn out faces. Grateful, they sat down and filled him with what they had learned.

“Wow, this is serious business,” George said as they finished.

Even after telling him the story, repeating Healer Nelson’s words, it still didn’t seem real to Draco.

“Yeah, it is,” Theo nodded. “Fortunately for us, my family was always keen on soul magic. We’ve got loads of books about it at our Manor but it’s been seized by the Ministry…”

George brushed it off.

“Dad and Percy can take care of that, we need access to those books. Have you already read anything that could be useful?”

Theo thought about it for a while.

“Well, it’s been years so I don’t really remember. I think my father was always interested in a ritual that would help transfer souls in order to get more powerful but he never managed to do it.”

“So,” Draco recapitulated, “if we can find a way to safely transfer a part of my soul into Harry’s so that I can keep mine undamaged and avoid dying, then Harry will be cured?”

Theo nodded. “Apparently yes. Although I don’t quite trust Healer Nelson, what he said made a lot of sense.”

“But Draco,” George interrupted, “giving a part of your soul is not something to be taken lightly… For one, it’s extremely dangerous and well, we don’t know what will happen if you do that. No one’s ever done it before.”

Draco smiled sadly. He already knew his answer, had known ever since Healer Nelson suggested it.

“George, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Harry. If it doesn’t work, then at least we’ll have tried. I owe him that. And why would I want to live in a world that has no Harry in it?”

Harry had always been under Draco’s skin, as an idol he worshipped when he was a child, an enemy, a friend and most importantly as a lover. All his life, Draco had thought of him constantly, endlessly, evidently. George, visibly moved, just nodded. He knew what living in a world without his half was like and the last thing he wanted was for Draco to endure the same.

Draco checked his watch. It was lunch time.

“I need to go. Harry’s waiting for me, I told him we’d have lunch together. I’ll tell him about our plan, no more lies between us. You should go ahead and try to get inside Theo’s Manor.”

They agreed and Draco hurriedly came out of the shop. He arrived in front of Theo’s apothecary early. Harry wasn’t there yet so he leaned on the wall, breathed in and out slowly and waited.

* * *

Leaning against the shop’s door, Draco stared at him as he walked up the street. He was the same as this morning and yet he wasn’t. Something had changed. He looked tired and older, perhaps a little angry.

Harry gave him is best smile, he wanted to make him feel better if he had had a shitty morning at work. But Draco stayed impassive, his face emotionless. He thought he would be able to handle staying calm and not being mad at Harry but he just couldn’t. He stormed inside the apothecary. He couldn’t even look at him with his innocent and worried green eyes, jumper ridiculously too big for him.

Harry felt a dull pain inside his chest, it was different than anything he had ever felt before. He could easily guess it was the guilt coming back stronger than before.

“What are you doing?” he asked, running after Draco until he arrived in the storehouse filled with brand new potions on shiny shelves. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Draco? Why are you running away?”

 _He knows_ , a voice inside Harry whispered.

“How could you?” Draco exploded. “All this time! You knew something could be done. You watched me worry and you let me hope that you were getting better when you obviously knew that it would never happen…”

Harry flinched. Deep down, he has always known that. He just couldn’t admit it to himself.

“I _couldn’t_ tell you! You would’ve wanted to have the procedure done and that’s out of the question! Did Healer Nelson tell you how dangerous it was? Did he tell you it’s never been done before? I will not let you put your life at risk for me when the chances of success are so low.”

“So you’re willing to sacrifice your life, just like that? Without even trying?”

Harry’s eyes were starting to become red but he willed himself not to cry in front of him, to stay strong. Yet a rogue tear escaped, followed by others. He didn’t want to fight with Draco, he didn’t want to see how much he had been wrong to have such important secrets and what it would cost him this time.

“We’ve already tried the potions!”

“Look how great they turned out to work! Harry, it should have been my choice to help you or not. It should have at least been ours. I gave you all my trust. You owed me that, don’t you think?”

“I just wanted to protect you,” Harry mumbled.

“That’s not how a relationship works. You can’t keep things from me because you think it’s for my own good. And besides, if you told me, we could’ve started searching for a way to make the procedure safer earlier.”

“What? There’s a way to make it safer?” Harry asked, incredulous.

He felt stupid now. He could’ve avoided all this unnecessary pain and hopelessness while taking the potions if he had just told Draco the truth.

“There might be, yes. Theo, George and I will be looking into it.”

“You three are working together?”

Draco nodded. Harry thought about them and how his passing would affect them. He had been so selfish and stubborn, trying to carry his burden alone when so many were willing to help. All he had managed to do was hurt Draco and lose his trust.

“I just wanted to keep you safe,” Harry said weakly. “I’m so sorry. I love you and I would never hurt you intentionally.”

“I know,” Draco admitted with a sigh.

Harry tentatively came closer and took both his hands, warming them. Draco extracted one from his grip and wiped the silent tears scattered all over Harry’s cheeks.

“Would you really give me a piece of your soul?” Harry asked, sniffing miserably.

“In the blink of an eye.”

Harry fell into his arms and held him. He never wanted to let go.

“Okay,” he whispered. “We can try the procedure if you can promise me you’ve found the safest possible option.”

Draco smiled against his ear. Harry felt hope making its way into his chest and he knew it was dangerous but he couldn’t help it, he had faith in Draco, Theo, George and all his friends and nothing was going to change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the first time I wrote smut it actually had a purpose. This time, it’s for all the people who said they wanted more fluff and smut when I asked whether you wanted to see anything in particular in the next chapters. So feel free to tell me anything, I’m always open to suggestions. And I also added a couple of chapters because I don’t want the ending to feel rushed so I can add a lot if you want to see something special :)  
> Thank you so much for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks! They never fail to make me smile!


	27. Meaning to my life

Harry woke up to the sound of chatter and to the clinking sound of utensils. He struggled to open his eyes and groaned, he still felt tired even though he had slept hours. The last three weeks had been difficult and his health had quickly deteriorated. He had gone back to St Mungo’s several times for various tests and so far he had been lucky enough to be able to go home afterwards each time. He had gone back to his previous room with the intention of saying hello to his old friend Thomas but had found nothing but an empty bed.

Harry guessed Draco hadn’t joined him in bed last night; his pillow showed no traces of having been used. He had probably stayed up all night with Theo and George, trying to read all of the Nott family’s books about soul magic. The entire Weasley family was trying to find a cure and Draco had even told him that Narcissa had made several inquiries about wizards who could perform such complicated spells.

Harry put on his dressing gown and came downstairs. He was greeted by several voices vibrating with excitement:

“…this is it!” Theo said. “We only have half of the translation which is probably why Father never got to the end of the ritual. But if we can translate it, we have a way to create a potion that would secure our transfer.”

“But how would that even work?” George asked.

“It’s complicated,” Draco answered, rubbing his eyes, “but I think it can create a sort of dimension where we could actually reach souls.”

He looked so tired and pale, Harry thought. He sighed and stepped inside the living-room:

“Besides, we don’t even know what ingredients the potion would require and your mum still hasn’t found a wizard that can cast the spell,” Harry said as a greeting.

Draco jumped to his feet, instantly by Harry’s side.

“You’re awake. How are you?”

“I’m fine, stop worrying! How are _you_? You seem exhausted.”

Actually, the three of them seemed exhausted, dark circles around their eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. Harry, we found it,” Draco answered.

Disbelieving, Harry frowned.

“We did,” George confirmed. “It’s written in ancient runes though and Draco says he took the class back in Hogwarts but he’s never seen those. ”

“Hermione probably has,” Harry suggested. “I mean, she even takes private lessons with Professor Babbling this year because she’s so interested in runes. The two of them could have a look at it? We can give it to her during Christmas.”

“No way!” Draco countered. “We can’t wait almost two week, doing nothing but sitting on our arses in the meantime. I’ll go there right now.”

He started heading to the Floo, steps unsteady. Harry caught him by the arm.

“Come on,” he said softly. “How many nights have you been up this past week? Let Theo go, he’s smart enough to actually sleep during the day when you keep him up all night.”

Draco opened his mouth to protest but Theo got up and stole the book he was carrying from his grasp.

“Just go to sleep, Draco, Theo can handle it,” George said, grumpy.

He was lying on the couch, almost falling asleep. Draco had to agree and let Theo go after he made him promise to place the book in Granger’s hands and none other. He then headed upstairs after Harry threatened to Side-Along him to bed.

Harry covered George with a blanket and took the book he was still holding, placing it on the table along with the dozens of other books they had read, desperately searching for information. Some of these books had even been cursed and had required Bill’s expertise. He then fixed himself a bowl of cereals, picked up a book and joined Draco in bed. He swallowed his potions, grimacing and wincing as they started kicking in. He forced himself to eat more than a couple of spoonfuls but quickly gave up.

Comforted by Draco’s deep breathing, he pulled the covers over himself and started reading. He stopped every once in a while to put a lock of Draco’s hair back in place, make sure he was alright or simply pat his back if his face gave any indication that his dreams weren’t nice. During these moments, Harry never felt sick.

* * *

Four days later, Hermione and professor Babbling had translated the rest of the pages in Theo’s book. They now knew that the ritual was extremely complicated and might even be one of the most complicated ones in the world. That didn’t stop Draco, Theo and George and they started looking for the various ingredients they needed. One of them was always off somewhere, trying to find a rare plant. Neville’s expertise had been required and he was more often that not out of Hogwarts and roaming around the world with Theo.

Harry wanted to tell them to focus on their own lives: George’s shop was still closed, Theo’s apothecary plans were on hold and Neville even left Hogwarts on and off - with McGonagall’s special permission. Of course, when they had heard, Ron and Hermione had wanted to help as well but since there was nothing they could do except research, they reluctantly had to agree to stay in Hogwarts. They sent Owls to Harry every day.

Harry himself was getting weaker and weaker. He started to feel dizzy and light-headed, couldn’t stay up for long. He was awake in bed, thinking, while Draco slept by his side when suddenly his body tensed and he felt so much pain he thought he was going to be sick. Body numb, he ran to the bathroom as quietly as he could.

Draco found him a couple of minutes later, unable to keep his food down. Every single one of his limb hurt, every time he touched something needles seemed to puncture his skin. He was struggling to breathe and trying helplessly to keep calm. Draco was kneeling by his side, wide awake and eyes full of worry.

“It hurts so much,” Harry managed to whisper.

“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you now, you don’t have to be alone. Just breathe, in and out,” Draco answered, hands rubbing his back soothingly.

Then, he helped Harry out of his drenched clothes and ran a bath for him in the middle of the night just because he thought it would help with the pain. He was right, the water did lessen the pain considerably and Harry was so grateful he could’ve cried.

“Are you feeling better?” Draco asked, holding Harry’s hand in the water.

Harry nodded. He didn’t have the strength to speak and let his head fall back. Draco kept an eye on him so he felt safe enough to fall asleep.

When he woke up, he was back in bed. He guessed Draco must’ve dried him up and carried him back to bed. Had he been so out of it he didn’t even remember? Draco was sound asleep next to him, probably catching up on the hours he had spent awake last night. Harry was so ashamed, he felt like he was nothing but a burden… He couldn’t help himself, he didn’t even understand why Draco bothered with him.

He started sobbing uncontrollably, feeling tired, in pain and lost. It had never happened to him before but he was in such an exhausted state he didn’t even care. The bed started shaking along with the tremors of his body. It woke Draco up and Harry hated himself even more. Draco turned to him and gasped when he saw him, face all wet and trying to hide himself.

“Hey, what’s wrong, are you in pain?” he asked, trying to gather Harry in his arms.

“No, just leave me alone, go away…”

Harry struggled to get out of his grasp but he was still shaking and it was nearly impossible. He didn’t want Draco to see him like this, crying, weak, hopeless.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Draco asked again, holding Harry’s head between his hands.

Harry had no choice but to watch him, he couldn’t look away. He saw the worry, the care, the adoration in Draco’s eyes. He thought he didn’t deserve any of those.

“How could you even be with me? I’m sick and disgusting and you should leave me…”

Anger replaced all the other emotions Harry had seen.

“How could you think that for one second? _I love you_ , Harry Potter, and so help me Merlin I will say it every day until the end of my days if I have to. Until it gets inside your small, useless Gryffindor brain! And don’t you ever speak about yourself like that again!”

Harry stopped struggling and fell back on the bed, shocked. Draco had never said those words out loud yet. How could he have doubted him?

“I… I hadn’t realised.”

“Hadn’t realised what?”

“I hadn’t realised how you felt. About me,” Harry answered, cheeks burning up.

“Are you joking? After all this time, what were you imagining, Harry? That I would be satisfied with you until I found better? That I was considering dancing on your grave when you die, screaming _‘ah, finally free! Where’s the next one?’_ ”

Harry shook his head and sighed. “It’s not that. You know, I spent ten years of my life and all my summers living with a family that hated me, without ever receiving a single kind gesture or even a nice word every once in a while. Even when I was a baby, even when I was sick, even at Christmas or during my birthdays.”

“Harry…” Draco shook his head sadly and kissed the top of Harry’s head.

They settled on the bed, pulling the thick duvet over them. With Draco’s comforting hands massaging his head and small back, Harry felt completely safe and was able to continue speaking about things he never thought he’d be comfortable telling another person.

“I was an abomination to them,” Harry continued, “something they had to take care of without being able to help it. So it always seemed odd to me when someone actually liked me, it never seemed natural. And when I see the look on your face, I say to myself: did you ever think you that someday, a person would love you like that? And the answer’s no. What you and I have, it’s rare.”

“I never thought it would be but it is,” Draco agreed. “I mean, if ten years ago someone had told me I’d be in a relationship with Harry Potter… I wouldn’t believe them for a second.”

“I’ve never really thought about it but… maybe I gave just as much meaning to your world as you gave to mine. So, I understand now that not telling you about the soul thing was wrong because I thought I was protecting you but actually…”

Uneasy, Draco said: “Lying to me so that I’d get a future without you wasn’t protecting me, it was hurting me more than anything else.”

Harry sighed and nodded. He looked up and kissed Draco softly as if to say sorry again.

“So, if you’re still on…”

“I am. With the potion or not, no matter what.”

They stared at each other. The air was heavy around them and they could feel they had sealed something at that moment. There would be no turning back. Deep down, Draco was convinced their souls had been linked for a long time anyway. Twin souls, inseparable ones. _Soulmates._ He sighed, lured Harry closer and put his head on his chest. He listened to the steady heartbeat with Harry’s hand running through his hair until the sun rose.

* * *

Christmas eve. Harry felt much better than he had in days though he guessed it was probably due to his excitement. Neville had found the location of the last ingredient they needed for the potion. However, it was located in South America in the middle of the jungle. It was agreed that Draco, Theo, George and Neville would go right after the Christmas party and hopefully come back before New Year’s Eve.

Naturally, he was going to spend Christmas at the Burrow and he had been relieved when he had heard Draco was invited too. He hoped Ron and him would behave but he wasn’t too worried; these days everyone was so focused on the ritual which would create the potion that nobody dwelled on childish bickering.

Draco was actually extremely nervous about going to the Burrow. He wanted to make a good impression and thought it was going to be difficult with Ginny there as well. Harry tried to reassure him but he wasn’t really sure it’s go well.

“This is going to be a disaster, right?” Draco asked as he fixed Harry’s tie.

Hermione used to fix his tie at Hogwarts and he usually left the knot and simply loosened it to take it off. Now that he had Draco he could wear as many ties as he wanted because he was an expert at tying them.

“If we go there thinking it’s going to be a disaster then it’ll be one. Let’s be optimistic.”

Draco frowned, staring at him skeptically.

“Oh, come on, let’s go, you moron,” Harry chuckled, grabbing his hand and bringing him along.

One after the other, they arrived at the Burrow. It was like stepping in another reality: while they hadn’t even bothered to put up a Christmas tree in their flat due to other preoccupations, the Burrow was almost entirely decorated. Chatter, warmth and a lovely smell welcomed them as soon as they entered the living-room.

Suddenly, everyone was around them, greeting them, shaking their hands. Hermione shrieked and ran towards Harry, hugging him for a long minute.

“Hermione, I can’t breathe,” Harry laughed.

Reluctantly, she let him go and wiped a tear. “Are you okay?”

“Better than okay with all of you here,” he answered, nodding at everyone.

She eyed Draco, not really sure what to do. Ultimately, she decided to hug him very briefly, back stiff and holding her breath. It was more than Draco could’ve hoped for and after that, everyone was willing to greet him as well. Charlie, Arthur, Molly, Bill and Fleur were all completely comfortable with him now, probably thanks to George. He hugged Harry warmly and then did the same with Draco, patting his back.

This was their first Christmas after the war and Molly had wanted it to be a family thing otherwise she would’ve invited more members from the Order. Harry saw her turn her head towards pictures of Fred several times. He followed her to the kitchen and hugged her for a long time. Eyes sad, she told him to go back to back to the living-room and enjoy the evening.

“That’s what he would’ve wanted,” she explained. “So that’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to live for him.”

Harry nodded and went back to the living-room. He couldn’t find Draco so he looked for him around the house. He went outside, thinking perhaps he might’ve wanted some fresh air. He was leaning against the house, staring at the stars. Harry was about to go to him when he heard steps. He waited and saw Ginny coming back from a walk in the field. That was probably why they hadn’t seen her yet.

She froze when she saw Draco.

“What are _you_ doing here? I didn’t think you’d have the nerve to show up.”

Draco held up his hands when he noticed she was about to take her wand out.

“Look, I know it’s hard for you. And I’m sorry. People always think heartaches are ordinary and that the pain isn’t as excruciating as it actually is. But it’s never ordinary. And I understand if you want to hate me for taking him away from you. I can’t even blame you. But his family is important to him and I don’t want him to think of this place, his refuge, as the place he’ll be judged and insulted by you. Harry’s sick, he needs all the support he can get. So I’d like it if we could at least be civil. If you can’t do that and if you make him sad, I swear to Merlin I’ll make sure to turn life into a living hell.”

She stayed quiet, staring at her feet, make-up smudged by her tears. Eventually, she nodded and stormed past Draco and into the house. On her way, she saw Harry and nodded at him stiffly too before leaving.

Draco sighed and came back inside, surprised when he saw Harry waiting for him in the doorway.

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

Harry smiled and nodded. “I’m glad you talked to her, it means a lot.”

“Yeah well, I’d be mad too if someone I hated took you from me.”

“You didn’t take me from her, our relationship was doomed from the beginning. This just reminded me of how scary and powerful you can be when you get all Slytherin and threatening.”

Draco frowned and smirked. _That doesn’t bode well_ , Harry thought, backing up against the wall.

“Wait… Did that actually turn you on?”

“No! Well… Maybe a little bit. It’s just… I quite like it when you want to protect me like a knight in a shining armour, it’s endearing and it suits you. Merlin, I really do love you a lot.”

They looked at each other with fondness.

“Wait till you get your present, Potter,” Draco smiled, taking his hand and leading him inside.

* * *

After dinner, everyone went to the living-room to open up their presents. They had agreed to do it the evening for once so that Draco and George could celebrate with everyone before leaving for South America. The Portkey left at midnight so they still had a little over half an hour.

They had eaten too much and had had a lovely time. Nobody had talked about Harry’s illness, the war or even the fact that Draco Malfoy was sitting at their table. Everyone had been friendly, Ron included. He still had a hard time talking willingly to Draco but he had told Harry he’d be glad to come over for dinner at their flat during the next holidays. Harry had beamed.

They were now all sitting in the living-room though there wasn’t enough space for everyone so Fleur and Bill sat on the floor with their baby crawling everywhere.

“So, I guess I’ll start giving everyone their present!” Molly said.

She handed everyone soft packages, even Victoire. She received little purple socks that Fleur immediately put on her. Then, Molly stopped in front of Draco and handed him a package too. Not knowing what to do, he looked at Harry who smiled at him with encouragement. Draco opened it and unfolded a knitted jumper with the letter D. Beside him and holding his own knitted jumper, Harry gasped.

Arthur put a hand over Molly’s shoulder and said:

“We wanted you to know that we’re very glad Harry has you. We’re all grateful for the hours you spent searching for a cure and no one can deny that you genuinely care about him.”

Draco nodded, eyes a little red.

“You’re welcome to the family anytime, Draco,” Molly added.

Next to that present, the different teas Draco had brought from France for Molly seemed quite unimportant.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Harry thought he looked genuinely moved by this gesture and guessed Draco had never received presents like that at home. He put on his jumper, proudly showing the letter “D” and smiled warmly at the entire family.

Thankfully, Harry was distracted by the sound of the Floo activating, otherwise he would have hugged everyone in the room to show them how happy and grateful he felt. Theo stepped in with difficulty because he was carrying an enormous box with a green bow on it. _He’s a little early for the Portkey,_ Harry thought.

“Ah, this must be Harry’s present,” Draco said.

Theo handed him the box and greeted everyone politely. He dropped his bag on the floor. Harry noticed he was dressed just like an explorer and almost laughed out loud: he looked so ridiculous with his silly hat.

Then, Draco gave to box to Harry. He noticed it was moving slightly and looked questioningly at Draco.

“Come on, open it!”

Everyone encouraged him to do so. They were all curious.

“Come on, Harry, I want to see what’s inside!” Ron prompted.

Harry took off the ribbon and opened the lid. He gasped and almost let the box drop. He looked back to Draco, this time with awe. Everyone shuffled around to see but only Hermione could glance at what was inside the box because she was closest. She put a hand over her mouth but a muffled scream managed to escape.

Harry plunged his hands in the box, pulled a small dog from it and put it on his lap. Everyone cheered and some even clapped. Draco told him the dog was probably a Havanese. The dog seemed frightened by all the chatter around him so Harry petted him and finally he sat on his knees, licking his hand. His fur was short and seemed to grow back at some places.

“He comes from a dog café in London where people can adopt dogs,” Draco explained.

“You went to a Muggle dog café?” Ron asked, incredulous.

“Well, yes, I had to pick the dog up. Luna told me about it.”

It was Hermione’s turn to be shocked.

“You speak to Luna?”

“Yes, she sends me letters regularly. She told me she visited the café over the summer and really liked it, she wants to adopt as soon as she gets out of Hogwarts. Usually the dogs have been abandoned by their former owners or even abused like Ollie here. He’s very nice though.”

Draco petted him himself and the dog seemed quite happy to recognize at least one familiar face.

“Draco, thank you so much,” Harry said, “it’s perfect. How did you even know I wanted a dog?”

“I guessed and besides, I didn’t want you to feel alone in our flat while I’m off in the jungle even if it’s just for a week. After that, we can both enjoy Ollie’s company.”

Harry smiled and threw his arms around Draco, careful not to squash Ollie between them. Draco laced his arms around Harry and nuzzled his neck. They pulled back and Harry kissed him briefly. He didn’t care that they had an audience, he just wanted to say how much he loved the dog already and he knew words wouldn’t be enough. Hermione and Molly both whispered a small “aww” while others smiled, giving them a silent blessing. A few looked away or cleared their throats.

Ollie didn’t seem to understand why there was suddenly so much movement so he simply barked happily and resumed sitting on Harry’s knees. He smiled affectionately at the dog and scratched his ears.

After that, everyone started giving their gifts. Hermione offered books to pretty much everyone: romance for Molly, Quidditch for Harry, Auror related ones for Ron. Draco got one about potions. Like many others, Harry and Draco had also offered Hermione books because they knew it made her the happiest. She got a beautiful necklace from Ron and she also kissed him impulsively. Harry was relieved he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t control himself when a significant other did something thoughtful.

It was time for Harry to give Draco his present, everyone was waiting for it. He had spent a long time searching for an object but when he had found nothing that could represent what he wanted to say, he decided to try something else. He took the two pieces of parchment he had shrunk from his pockets and enlarged them, careful not to disturb Ollie still asleep between them.

He took a deep breath and reassured himself by thinking that pretty much everyone in this room knew about the Dursleys and his terrible childhood with them. He handed the first one to Draco who took it. His eyes widened his surprise.

“This is your Hogwarts acceptance letter,” Draco whispered, carefully opening it.

“I always kept it ever since Hagrid handed it to me all those years ago. If it wasn’t for this letter, I never would have met all of you, I never would have known the Wizarding World. This letter saved me when I was a child and today you are the one who’s saving me. So I wanted to give you something just as meaningful.”

Harry handed him the second piece of parchment, urging Draco to read it. He did and he almost let it drop when he arrived to the end.

“Harry… This is… How did you even manage to do this?”

Harry smirked. It hadn’t even been difficult.

“Well, you know I don’t like using my name for favours but this time I thought I’d try.”

Draco lunged at him and hugged him fiercely. He pulled back and stared at him lovingly. He kissed his cheek and whispered in his ear:

“Thank you, Harry.”

There were so many emotions in these words, Harry could feel them all. Gratefulness, love, unspoken promises.

At that moment, they heard a click and turned their heads: Hermione had taken a picture of them while they were busy exchanging presents.

“So, what did you get Draco?” she asked while she took the picture as it came out of Bill’s brand new camera.

“He got me an apprenticeship with the best potion master in the world,” Draco declared, voice filled with awe. “No one would even consider employing me, not even the most rubbish potion masters in all of Europe. And I looked, trust me, I sent dozens of Owls while I was still in Hogwarts.”

Everyone turned their heads towards Harry, nodding their heads as if they wanted to say _well done, Harry, that’s the spirit._

“Blimey, that’s quite the present, mate,” Ron said, patting Harry’s shoulder from behind the couch.

“He deserves a chance to be the very best at what he enjoys doing,” Harry answered.

Ron nodded and patted Ollie. He startled and growled but calmed down as soon as he understood that Ron meant no harm.

“But Harry, what potion master did you ask?” Hermione wondered.

“Well, as you may know, I’m complete rubbish at potions so I thought I’d ask Theo. He said there was a man called Bainbridge but that I’d never get him to teach anyone.”

“Still can’t believe he said yes,” Theo agreed.

“Harry!” Hermione almost screamed. “That man invented half of the potions we use in medicine today! He hasn’t stepped into the Wizarding World in years though and he hasn’t taught anyone in more than twenty years. I think he lives as a recluse somewhere in Wales.”

“Well, he agreed to teach Draco,” Harry simply answered.

His name really could do wonders. However, he didn’t want to use it for himself. He had figured, he could do this one thing for Draco and provide him with such happiness and pride. He didn’t feel bad about using his fame for one second if it meant pleasing someone he deeply cared about. And considering he had received one of the most amazing present in all his life from Draco, he didn’t regret at all.

Hermione handed them the picture she had taken a few minutes later when it finally caught on paper. It was a Wizarding one: Draco was seen smiling and hugging Harry, Ollie trying to lick both their faces as they hugged but he was too small to reach them. They hadn’t even noticed, too busy putting all they couldn’t say out loud into their embrace. They saw the way they looked at each other and both blushed.

“Can I keep this while I’m off?” Draco asked.

“Of course. If you always keep it on yourself, Ollie and I will be with you no matter where you are. And if you’re scared or lonely, just watch it and know that I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

Draco nodded and put the picture in his pocket. Neville arrived a few minutes later and everyone had to say goodbye. Harry hugged the four adventurers and thanked them again for doing this for him. They all said it was nothing, they’d do a lot more if they could.

“Besides, I’ve always wanted to go on an adventure,” George said.

“And this plant is the most interesting specimen I’ve had to study yet so going after it is like a dream coming true,” Neville added.

He was also wearing a ridiculous outfit and an enormous bag that probably weighed as much as him.

“Look at you all, all so grown up and mature,” Mrs Weasley said as she also hugged everyone.

She gave them lunches that would last at least two days and put her hands on each of George’s cheeks, staring at him for a long time before she stepped back and told them to get ready because otherwise the Portkey would leave without them.

Harry had eyes only for Draco. With Ollie in his arms, he walked towards him and kissed him one last time. Draco patted Ollie’s head and told him to take care of Harry while he was gone. The dog licked his hand in response. He squeezed Draco’s arm, eyes locked with his. 11:58 PM.

Harry had to take step back because the boys started putting their hands on the rubber duck that would bring them to South America.

“Who decided to turn a bloody Muggle plastic duck into a Portkey?” George asked.

“You have to ask?” Neville answered, chuckling.

“Well, it appears to be otherwise useless,” Arthur Weasley said, arms crossed over his chest defensively. “Might as well use it for something!”

11:59 PM. Any other day, Harry would have laughed with the others while Arthur tried explaining himself again. Especially Hermione who was the only one who actually knew what rubber ducks were assimilated to.

Harry couldn’t do anything but stare at Draco. Who knew what dangers awaited him? They never had it easy, he knew there’d be some kind of trouble waiting for them and he also knew Draco would never back down to get this plant. Worry threatened to overwhelm him so he just held Ollie a little stronger.

Midnight. _Goodbye Draco, be safe,_ Harry thought, eyes still locked with Draco’s until he disappeared and there was no grey, no love, nothing left.

Harry knew Draco had heard him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The biggest thank you goes to my dear friend Lil Mie (she has a YouTube channel and it features our adventures in London and in the HP studios!). She helped me find Harry’s present to Draco and came up with the most beautiful idea ever. Also, this fic apparently made her like Drarry and realise Harry and Draco had an amazing chemistry!  
> Thanks again to all of you as well :)


	28. Lost in the depths of the sea

In the night, the heat waves protected Harry. Neon-like and blue, they kept him safe from the outside world, from the cold, from the aggressions his body endured day after day. The shadows all around him, once scary and menacing, seemed almost friendly coloured in blue. They were magically induced and had been Hermione’s idea: they created a temperature that would be intolerable for most humans but perfect for Harry. Ollie helped with the cold too, being constantly by Harry’s side. He reminded him of Draco and kept him warm inside and out.

All his nights were spent taking potions and Muggle pills but despite all of this medication, his insomnia never went away. How could he sleep when every bone, muscle and articulation in his body hurt? How could he sleep when his closest friends were either worrying in Hogwarts or lost in a jungle?

After Draco had left, he had started to get cold again even though his potions still seemed to keep a steady temperature in his body. It wasn’t the same cold that had kept him awake so many nights last summer, wondering if he was going mad, if he was going to die from hypothermia even though the sun was bright and warm. This cold was slowly gaining him, seizing control of his body and there was nothing he could do except wait it out.

Two weeks. Draco had been gone for two weeks. What was supposed to be a routine expedition had turned out to be a disaster. The Portkey somehow took the boys miles from the supposed location of the plant and they had no idea where they were. They couldn’t use magic because they didn’t know where the plant was and they were aware that any magical exposure would ruin it.

They were all alone in an hostile jungle with not enough food and no magic. They’d only been able to send little messages through Dumbledore’s Army’s old coins.

All Harry had heard from Draco was “ _Am okay. Take care of yourself. Love you_ ” eleven days ago. Harry had held the coin in his hands for a long moment while Mrs Weasley patted his shoulder and covered him with a plaid when he started shivering uncontrollably.

“No one wants to come back before they find the plant,” Mrs Weasley had told him.

Harry knew this already. He knew none of them would give up. He knew that even if they all lost hope, Draco would still need to be Stupefied in order to bring him home without the plant.

“I hope they’re okay, wherever they are,” Harry answered.

Mrs Weasley tightened her grip on Harry’s shoulder and nodded. They were all on edge, waiting for news all day long. When Harry started getting worse, Mrs Weasley ordered him to stay in bed under the heat waves most of the day. He didn’t have the strength to contradict her and so he waited at home for owls that never came.

Harry was certain they were doing everything that was possible to find the plant but as he lay in bed, cold despite the heat waves, he just wished they’d hurry. He wanted peace, he wanted Draco, he wanted his well-deserved rest. He was sick of the nausea and the constant pain, the dizziness and the helplessness that came with the potions. When he woke at night, alone, his body cramped and aching, Draco wasn’t there to reassure him and to help him into a bath.

He had to drag himself all the way to the bathroom and collapse into the bath, chest heaving, limbs shaking. During these moments, he wanted nothing more than to wake up in Guernsey, Draco’s arms around him, the sun filtering through their hotel room’s curtains.

If he focused and closed his eyes, he could almost hear the sea outside the window, waiting for them.

* * *

In the middle of the cold and dreary night of the fifteenth of January, they finally arrived.

The loud cracks of multiple consecutive Apparitions echoed in the flat. Ollie started barking as soon as he heard it and woke Harry instantly. He stumbled out of bed and tumbled down the stairs, a blanket around him. Ollie was following him, still barking, tail wiggling excitedly as if he knew who was coming home.

Draco was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. Harry could have wept with relief. He looked tired, exhausted even, sported a few cuts and bruises on his arms and a big one on his left cheek but he was alive and safe now. Harry dropped the blanket, put his hands on Draco’s face, feeling the beginning of a beard beneath his fingers and chuckled. It suited him, this new adventurous look. He threw his arms around him and hugged him.

Draco let out a breath he seemed to have held for the three weeks he’d been gone and tightened his grip on Harry.

“We have it,” Draco whispered. “You’re going to be fine, Harry.”

Harry peppered his face with kisses, first his cheek, nose and finally his mouth. He then bent down to grab Ollie who licked both their faces, tremendously excited to be reunited with both his owners. Draco petted him and told him he’d been a good boy, taking care of Harry while he was off. The dog seemed almost unbearably happy to hear all this praise.

Neville, George and Theo were behind them but neither Harry nor Draco had yet registered their presence, otherwise occupied at finding each other again. The boys all dropped their heavy backpacks at the same time on the floor and cleared their throats.

Harry hadn’t forgotten about them while they were off and his thoughts had lingered for a long time on the sacrifices they all had decided to make in order to find the plant and help him. Putting their businesses on hold for Theo and George and leaving Hogwarts and his important botanic studies for Neville. Harry was extremely grateful to them but he hadn’t realised he’d be so happy to see Draco.

“Hope you’re not planning on thanking us all like that,” George said.

Harry blushed. He hugged everyone and thanked them individually. He invited them to sit down and fetched tea and biscuits for everyone. Draco followed him in the kitchen and helped him, moving around the cupboards comfortably as if he had never left, as he had just been off on a business trip for a few days. But that wasn’t the case, it had been weeks since he’d last seen civilization and it was probably off-putting to be back here but Draco didn’t let anything show.

He behaved perfectly normally and Harry was pleased to see that he was still just as meticulous when it came to making tea. On top of that, Harry figured he had just needed an excuse to be alone with him a little longer and he was proven right. As soon as the kettle was on, Draco turned towards Harry and smiled. It turned out he couldn’t keep his hands to himself and they ended up staying in the kitchen for a long time, kissing each other.

“I was so worried about you, you stupid wanker! How long were you planing to stay in that jungle?”

“Until we got it. Months, years, I didn’t even care,” Draco answered between kisses.

Harry shook his head, amazed by how stupid Draco could be even though he had been one of the smartest students at Hogwarts. The boy obsessed with self-preservation was long gone and he had grown more mature in the past months than in six years spent studying in an excellent school.

 _Unless,_ Harry thought as he recalled most of his Sixth Year, _unless he considers me family too. I know how far he’s willing to go to protect his family._

Knowing that this possibility was far more likely than he’d care to believe, Harry put his hands on Draco’s face and kissed him again and again, trying to show all the tenderness and love he felt because he knew he’d never find the words to express it. They jumped apart when the kettle started whistling, startled, and eyed the living room warily.

“Have we really been gone that long?” Draco asked, lips bright red from all the kissing.

Harry rearranged his clothes and tried to flatten his disheveled hair a bit but it was hopeless. They’d definitely knew what Draco and Harry had been up to. Thankfully, Ollie had proved to be a worthy entertainer for Theo, George and Neville and they hadn’t even noticed that the boys had been gone for almost fifteen minutes.

“So, where is it?” Harry asked as he sat down, a warm cup of tea in his hands.

Neville grabbed his backpack and searched in it before retrieving the reduced jar and enlarging it.

“Neville, wait, you’re not supposed to do magic around it!” Harry yelled.

George chuckled and reassured Harry:

“Don’t worry, it’s under stasis. We can cast charms and everything around it as long as it stays in that spelled jar.”

Harry turned the jar in his hands carefully. The plant was beautiful; there were three white flowers with blue spots on them forming strange patterns.

“We’ve got everything ready. I’ll start the potion tonight and it should be ready in a couple of days,” Theo added.

This was going fast. Harry was conflicted: on the one hand he wanted to be cured and to get rid of his potions more than anything, he really wanted to start his life. On the other hand, he was scared that the ritual or the potion would somehow fail. He’d be so disappointed, having his hopes up like that for nothing.

“Already?”

“By some miracle we managed to come back just in time for the right lunar cycle,” Draco explained. “It’s now or never.”

Harry nodded, eyes still riveted on the beautiful plant. He had no trouble believing it could be extremely powerful, he could almost feel its power emanating in the room even though the plant was sealed in the jar.

“How did you even manage to find it?” he asked.

“Manually. It took a long time and it got us to think of the Muggles with a lot more understanding and amazement. I have no idea how they do it all the time without magic,” Theo explained.

“Though at some point we started feeling the magic radiating from this thing like a beacon,” Draco added.

“Yeah, and thanks to magic we’ll even be able to Apparate straight to bed,” Neville said, yawning.

Everyone instantly agreed. They had been working non-stop for the last days and were all looking forward to a good night (and probably day) of sleep. They said goodbye and Apparated to their respective homes, where Mrs Weasley awaited nervously and where Mr Filch, awakened by an House Elf with much difficulty, grumpily welcomed Neville back into Hogwarts.

* * *

A few days later, the potion was finally ready and the moon was rightly positioned for the ritual to take place. Harry had stopped taking his potions as soon as Draco came home and he was watching with satisfaction the empty bottles he had emptied in the sink.

He went to bed, opened the door and watched the scene in front of him with fondness. Draco was already asleep with Ollie next to him, peaceful in the bedroom’s blue lightning. He wanted to take a picture of them like this, innocent, without any sign of the stress and difficulties they had experienced. He never wanted the sun to come up: it would mean Narcissa was on her way, ready to arrive with the witch she had managed to find, one of the last ones in the world capable of mending wounded souls.

The potion was under a stasis charm in the living-room, ready to be drank by both Harry and Draco. Harry couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t take his eyes off of it. He was thankful for all the hours Theo and Draco had spent working on it the last couple of days but he was scared of its effects. What if it destroyed everything?

He hadn’t much of a choice in the matter anyway. The potions had been slowly killing him and the cold would soon if they didn’t do anything about it.

Draco stirred beside him in bed and woke up. He opened his eyes and immediately smiled when he noticed Ollie still asleep between them.

“I told you we’d never get rid of him if you let him sleep with you while I was gone,” Draco muttered.

Draco turned around and looked outside, noticing that the sun wasn’t up yet and that it was heavily raining outside. Ollie, troubled by all the noise and movement around him, decided to head towards the foot of the bed. Harry took the opportunity to get closer and to find his way into Draco’s arms. He absorbed the heat of Draco’s body, perhaps for the last time. Indeed, if the ritual worked, a part of Draco’s soul would mingle with his and he’d always be a part of Harry.

“You’re not actually complaining, are you?” Harry laughed.

Draco shook his head. They were lying next to each other, slotted together, legs intertwined.

“Lost your tongue?” Harry asked, certain that Draco would’ve jumped at the opportunity to criticize Harry’s permissiveness when it came to Ollie.

“Catch it if you can,” Draco replied, provocative.

Harry laughed and it sounded incredibly _alive_ and warm to Draco. He grabbed him by the collar of his ridiculous oversized Gryffindor t-shirt and pulled him towards him to kiss him without waiting for a reply. Harry’s lips were dry, as if frozen by an internal winter but the sensation was still deliciously familiar. He caught Harry’s tongue himself, raised his eyebrows in victory when their eyes met.

A warmth spread to their stomachs. And a little below. Draco took his shirt off, threw it on the floor and pushed Harry on the mattress. He kissed him again while Harry’s hands wandered on his back. Suddenly, their pressure increased and nails scratched his back.

“Draco… wait. We can’t.”

Draco groaned as he remembered that Harry wasn’t on his potions anymore.

“I know,” he muttered grumpily. “It’s so cruel. And unfair. If you want my opinion, we should be having sex all day. On every single piece of furniture of this flat. Except it might kill you. How are we supposed to relax before the big day, right? Stare at each other and wait for something to go wrong?”

“Merlin, I really missed your delicateness…” Harry laughed.

“If you wanted delicateness, you shouldn’t have started dating a Slytherin.”

Harry smiled at him carefully but didn’t answer. Draco was far more delicate then he let on, especially when they were alone, but he wasn’t going to talk about that and piss him off.

“Come on, if the ritual goes well we’ll be having sex all day tomorrow to celebrate.”

Draco brightened up. He liked the sound of that. But for now, risking Harry’s life was out of the question and even though they joked about it, Draco would never consider endangering it for something as casual as sex. He’d wait years if it meant Harry was safe.

They got back under the covers, cuddling and listening to each other’s steady heartbeat. After a few minutes like this, they weren’t even thinking about having sex anymore. What they were sharing was somehow far more intimate anyway. Soon, their souls would be joined.

Draco kissed Harry’s shoulder and neck and breathed in deeply, nose buried in Harry’s hair. His slow and regular breathing left a moist and lukewarm trail on his skin; he hoped it would go through it, pierce it and unfroze his cold blood and icy veins. Draco seemed to understand and he rubbed his back, arms and hands until Harry fell asleep.

* * *

Harry woke up alone in bed. He heard voices downstairs so he got dressed and joined Draco and his mother in the living-room. They were sitting down on the couch, listening to a small witch who seemed quite old. She was wearing black robes and her long grey hair made her look wise. Actually, Harry wouldn’t describe her as an old person but rather as someone ancient or sacred. She wasn’t like any other old lady but she definitely had the looks of someone who had seen quite a lot of things in a lifetime, good and bad.

As soon as Draco noticed that Harry was up, he got up and joined him.

“Harry. This is Magda, the witch my mother found. She’s the one who will perform the ritual.”

Magda eyed him impassively. She then took a deep breath and exhaled quietly.

“I can sense what’s wrong with you from here, young man,” she said. “Walking around with a bruised soul, the wound wide open and untreated. Of course one might expect consequences.”

If only he’d found her last summer when nobody believed him…

“But you can fix him, can’t you?” Mrs Malfoy asked.

Magda frowned and with Harry’s approval, she cast a few diagnosis spells and tried to meditate for a couple of minutes while her wand vibrated and swirled.

“I can try, yes. Unfortunately it’s been months since the cut has been made and it’s going to be very difficult to repair it completely.”

“Even with a piece of my soul?” Draco asked. “Because I’m willing to give everything he needs, we’ve discussed it.”

He took Harry’s hand in his.

“Yes, Mr Malfoy,” she sighed, “even with your help it’s going to be a difficult case. I told your mother it would put both of you in danger but she said you were willing to take the risk.”

Draco looked up to his mother and nodded. Harry was overwhelmed by all the risks everyone was willing to take for him. Shaking slightly, he hugged her for a long time, happy to learn that she cared about him enough to let Draco face dangers. Knowing that she had lied to Voldemort to protect him, Harry was more than aware it was a rare and thoughtful decision.

“I have to warn you though,” Magda told Draco, “what you’re thinking of doing isn’t the same as giving someone a kidney or a blood transfusion. It’s a piece of your soul, your very own being.”

“I know,” Draco answered.

“If you’re certain. It’s not a decision to be made lightly.”

“It’s not,” Draco answered. “He already has that part of my soul anyway.”

She shrugged and put her wand back in her robe and straightened her back. She seemed competent and motivated which gave Harry all the courage he needed.

“Lead the way to St Mungo’s then. We need to work while the moon’s on our side. They’ve prepared a room incase anything goes wrong.”

Narcissa looked worried and pale but she let them go, fine with their decision of going forward with the ritual. She put a hand on her son’s cheek and smiled at him. Harry and Draco petted Ollie and left for St Mungo’s hand in hand. Soon, they would be joined on a whole different level.

* * *

The room in which the ritual was going to take place was completely white and had the distinctive smell of hospital disinfectant that Draco despised. Nevertheless, he didn’t seem to care today and was nervously stealing glances at Harry.

“Stop worrying,” he said. “It’ll be fine.”

They had both taken the potion and were lying in comfortable beds next to each other in the room, hands still tightly intertwined. Magda had also recommended taking a Sleeping Draught so that they’d be asleep while she worked. Eyes locked together, they were waiting to fall asleep.

“Do you think it’ll be it?” Draco asked. “We fall asleep, wake up and you’ll be fine?”

He had a point. Nothing was easy with them. However Harry didn’t want to worry. He wanted to hope for the best and relax for his last moments awake with Draco before everything changed forever.

“I think we’ve been through enough. I think this is it, yeah.”

“I can’t wait for you to be fine, to start eating and doing magic again and I can’t wait for you to stop feeling cold and in pain all the time,” Draco muttered, eyes closed.

Harry smiled and closed his eyes as well. He couldn’t keep them open anyway, he felt so sleepy and dizzy… It was like he wasn’t even in the room anymore but floating on a cloud somewhere in the sky.

“I’d like that…” he managed to answer.

Harry didn’t hear Magda come into the room; he was already peacefully asleep, ready to believe that perhaps the universe would be on his side for once. He didn’t dare imagine a world in which one of them didn’t make it.

* * *

Faces flashed all around the room and worried voices echoed endlessly. The white walls were punctuated by little red spots everywhere. It took a while but Harry guessed the Weasleys had come and were visiting him.

“Is he waking up?” one voice asked.

“I’m not sure.”

Harry slept on. He felt unanchored, drifting in the sea without his lifebuoy. He couldn’t hang on to anything, couldn’t open his eyes. He had no control over his body.

 _Draco_ , he wanted to yell.

He was blind, trying to keep his head out of the water around him but it was impossible. Everything around him was moving and unsteady. He lost consciousness.

When his eyes opened again for a second, he was alone and it was night. He wanted to stay awake, to turn his head and see Draco for just a fraction of a second but his body still wouldn’t respond. He put all of his strength into trying to turn his head but he had to give up because it was pointless. His body was so heavy it seemed to be made out of concrete.

He also felt genuine warmth radiating in all of his body and his pillow was incredibly soft. He stopped struggling and fell asleep.

* * *

Harry woke up, sore and aching. The light hurt his eyes and his vision was blurry. He held out his hand to search for his glasses on the bedside table.

The first thing he noticed was the warmth in his limbs. He hadn’t felt it in months, had even forgotten how good it felt. He stretched his muscles, amazed by the fact that it didn’t hurt a bit like it always did. Except the soreness in his body, probably due to the complex spell he had gone through, nothing hurt anymore.

He felt whole again for the first time ever since he walked into the Forbidden Forrest and stood still while Voldemort ripped his soul apart.

Harry smiled and turned his head, ready to laugh and kiss Draco again and again, feeling so happy he could burst. But the smile on his lips faded immediately when he noticed he was alone and the bed beside him was empty.

He tugged the covers off of his body, jumped out of bed, wincing when he lost his balance and stumbled. A nurse came in immediately and grabbed his arm. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, couldn’t process the meaning of the words coming out of her mouth. He managed to focus enough to recognize her: it was Amy, his old nurse from his first stay in St Mungo’s.

“Draco,” he managed to say as he struggled against her, ready to collapse.

“Harry, go back to bed, you shouldn’t be up!” she answered.

He yelled Draco’s name until she had no choice but to stop trying to put Harry back into bed. She led him to an adjacent room, face sealed, lips pursed. The panic was everywhere, in Harry’s chest, crushing furiously his lungs, in his trembling hands, in his ragged breathing.

When he first saw him, he almost fell and he would have if it wasn’t for Amy’s strong hold. Draco was lying in bed, livid, machines beeping steadily all around him. His room had that smell he hated, the white walls and informality he despised.

“Merlin,” he muttered, legs paralyzed.

He couldn’t enter, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. How could this happen? He didn’t understand anything.

“What’s wrong with him?” Harry finally managed to ask.

“Nobody knows exactly,” Amy answered softly while she rubbed Harry’s back. “Magda is off doing some research with his mum to try and find out what happened to him but so far, it’s unclear. He just didn’t wake up after the procedure.”

Harry hid his face in his hands. It was all his fault. He couldn’t bear to go in. He never should have agreed, he never should have let Draco get hurt.

“You should go in there, he needs you,” Amy added as if she understood what was going on in Harry’s head.

“I can’t, I can’t…”

 _Don’t you understand?_ Harry wanted to yell. _I’m the one who did this to him!_

“Harry, we’ll find out what happened, we’ll fix it. We’ve got our best Healers on it.”

Harry rested his forehead on the wall and tried to calm his erratic breathing. He wanted to hit the wall with his bare hands until he bled.

“How long has he been like this?”

“Three days. But look, it also took you a long time to wake up! Maybe his body needs a little bit more time.”

Harry breathed again and his vision became clearer as oxygen started to fill his brain. His panic didn’t quite subside though: there was a voice in his head that wouldn’t stop bringing up the possibility that he might never wake up.

“I remember being conscious on and off the last days though,” Harry said, frowning. “I remember seeing faces and hearing worried voices. Has he been like that as well?”

Amy sighed and shook her head. “Every case is different though, Harry. We shouldn’t give up.”

Harry nodded and stepped inside the room. He wasn’t about to give up. Amy was right, he needed to be by Draco’s side even if it hurt him to see him like that. He sat down next to the bed and held his hand. He put a lock of hair back in place, kissed his cheek and talked to him.

He hoped his voice lulled him and reassured him. He hoped he’d be okay.

More than anything, he hoped he’d wake up soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get closer and closer to the ending… As you’ve probably guessed, I don’t like endings but every time I see I have more Kudos and each time someone leaves a nice comment, it makes me want to write. So thanks to the people who leave feedback, to my friend Lil Mie and to a French group called Autrans: you are my inspiration, you are the reason this story will have an ending. <3


	29. A voice through the shipwreck

Harry didn’t leave Draco’s bedside even though his Healers had threatened to drag him to his own room and restrain him to the bed. Harry explained he was feeling better than he had in months and told them they could perform whatever spell or test to check his health as long as he remained by Draco’s side.

His hand didn’t leave Draco’s. He remembered the passages in his diary in which he wrote about the time Harry had almost died of a heart attack. He remembered being in his hospital room, turning page after page without being able to stop, and learning what had happened during the long hours he’d been unconscious. How Draco had held his hand for hours, providing warmth as well as comfort. How worried he had been and how utterly helpless and guilty he had felt.

He understood now why Draco had been so mean to him and so scared in the Room of Requirements when Harry came to find him after his heart attack. He still didn’t agree with the way Draco had dealt with this fear and guilt but he had forgiven him a long time ago. Sitting by his bedside at St Mungo’s, holding his hand and being in his shoes, he understood completely. He felt that same fear creeping in his body, preventing him from breathing.

He needed to stop thinking and worrying so he talked to Draco. He spoke about his parents, about Sirius, the Dursleys, his years at Hogwarts. He talked about their rows and how they’d never believe it if they came back in time and told their past selves they were in love.

“Can you just imagine our faces? We would look so silly, mouths hanging open and everything!”

Harry stopped laughing and a tear silently fell onto the mattress. He had never suspected he would owe his life to Draco someday, never suspected the prospect of life without him seemed almost too frightening to bear.

“Come on, just wake up, please.”

No reaction, Draco didn’t move. He seemed to be cold though and Harry was certain he’d enjoy having his favourite wool jumper on him. He guessed he could try a spell and fetched his wand in his own room and then cast an Accio. The jumper flew through the room and landed in Harry’s hands. He could do magic again. It was the only pleasing thought in the chaos that surrounded him since he woke up.

He put the jumper over Draco’s chest, brought an armchair that was in the room near the bed and waited for Narcissa to come back with information.

Harry was asleep with his head on the bed and his hand still linked with Draco’s when she finally arrived. Narcissa put a comforting hand on his shoulder and woke him up gently.

Harry jumped, distressed and suddenly alert. His eyes immediately landed on Draco but he was still asleep with machines and monitoring spells beeping steadily around him.

“Where’s Magda?” Harry asked, voice rough from the hours he had spent talking to Draco.

He wanted to know what he could do to help, if this was normal, if Draco, no, when Draco was going to wake up.

“She went home. There’s nothing more she can do,” Narcissa explained gently.

How could she be this calm, Harry wondered. He was on edge, nervous and restless.

“What? What do you mean?”

“She said some people just need more time after going through such a complex and tiring spell work. She said the only thing we can do is wait.”

Harry sighed and exhaled loudly. He felt the panic rising again in his chest, the guilt crushing his lungs. Narcissa brought a chair closer to the bed and sat down next to him, waiting for him to calm down and process the news. The way she behaved, composed and collected, was soothing to Harry and it helped him calm down.

“I don’t understand, we were both supposed to be fine! Did the potion fail?”

“No, Harry, everything went perfectly well. The procedure took two hours and after that Magda and the Healers were confident your soul was finally balanced again and that you were both unharmed.”

“So that means Draco should wake up any moment now,” Harry guessed.

Narcissa nodded and rearranged the covers over Draco’s feet. She sighed and looked at her son with tenderness.

“He’s not in a coma, there’s nothing wrong with him. It will just take a little longer. But we can wait, can’t we?”

Harry agreed. He was ready to wait as long as it took but he was certain Draco was going to wake up any minute now.

* * *

Three days later, Harry had been discharged and was free to go home. He didn’t.

He stayed at St Mungo’s, wandering through the hallways right in front of Draco’s room to stretch his legs every couple of hours. He couldn’t enjoy his recovery and didn’t even feel healed at all. As the days started blending together, he began to feel even worse than when he came to St Mungo’s for the ritual. He wanted to go back in time and never agree to this, he wished he were still sick. If they hadn’t come, Draco would still be fine.

His state hadn’t improved but it hadn’t gotten worse either. Magda had stopped by and told him that it could take days, perhaps weeks for him to wake up. Narcissa was there too, forcing Harry to eat and to go home every once in a while. She told him Ollie was waiting for him at the Manor where the House Elves kept an eye on him.

Harry only obeyed when she threatened to send an owl to Mrs Weasley and agreed to go take a shower, change clothes and visit Ollie for a few minutes. He came back to St Mungo’s immediately after that.

Draco had many visitors. All of their friends stopped by as soon as they heard that Draco hadn’t woken up after the ritual. Harry had hoped that Theo, George or Neville’s voices would have helped but none of them made a difference.

Harry kept talking, kept falling asleep in Draco’s bed every night even after he had been discharged. The Healers had tried to tell him he couldn’t stay after visiting hours but he was not ashamed for one second of using his fame to stay with Draco. For once, it was actually a perk rather than an inconvenience.

Harry had gotten his fair share of nicknames ever since he survived Voldemort’s Killing Curse. The Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived and many more, each featured in various articles. In St Mungo’s, Harry was known as the Boy Who Never Left and he had to admit he quite liked this one.

* * *

Three weeks after the ritual, Harry was almost living in St Mungo’s. He tried not to show it but he was losing hope and was struggling to keep his panic under control. Everyone, Amy, George, Theo, Narcissa… They were all trying to get him to come home as if staying was useless, as if the stories he told Draco didn’t help him at all. Amy even promised she’d update him as soon as Draco showed any sign of improvement.

Yet Harry couldn’t bring himself to go home, he didn’t want to give up. A few days ago, he could’ve sworn he felt Draco squeezing his hand back but when Amy arrived, he didn’t do it again. She explained that it was easy to mistake muscle spasms as a sign of wakefulness. He managed to tell himself he had probably imagined it but then it happened again. Draco moved a lot in his bed and sometimes squeezed his hand when he told something funny or heartfelt. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

Nobody believed him until Draco moved his head while Narcissa was in the room. She put a hand over her mouth and her eyes filled with tears of relief. They immediately called for a nurse.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you,” Amy said as she entered the room and witnessed the movements herself. “It’s not spasms, he’s waking up!”

Harry smiled for the first time in weeks. He sat down and smiled like a fool until his cheeks and lips hurt. He had been right all along and he knew everything would be fine now even if it took several days for Draco to regain consciousness.

Narcissa was in the cafeteria when it finally happened. Harry was cleaning up the mess in the hospital room, grabbing the clothes he had scattered all over the room during his stay and throwing away the dead flowers so that Draco would wake up in a tidy room.

Harry heard a groan as he picked up a sweater from the floor. He dropped everything he held and ran towards Draco’s bed. He was frowning and struggling to open his eyes.

“Draco? Draco, it’s me. You can open your eyes, I’ll dim the light.”

Harry waved his wand and shut the blinds so that the light wouldn’t hurt Draco’s eyes. He winced in pain again but managed to open his eyes; they immediately settled on Harry. His eyes were still half-closed and his brows furrowed but he was definitely conscious and aware of his relationship with Harry; he could see the care and the worry in the grey irises.

“Rrrry,” Draco tried to say but his voice was raspy because it hadn’t been used in weeks.

Harry was so happy to hear his voice again. He swore he’d ask Draco to speak all day long, to read him books out loud so he’d never again experience the void of several weeks spent without hearing him. His heart skipped a beat when he realised Draco was trying to say his name, he was worried about him before even thinking about himself.

“I’m fine, all better now, don’t worry,” Harry explained, hands on Draco’s chest to prevent him from trying to get up. “Wait, you haven’t spoken in a long time, just hold on, I’ll get you some water.”

He gave him a sip of water, carefully holding the glass to Draco’s mouth. He caressed his cheek, put a lock of hair behind his ear. Draco smiled.

“You’re… okay,” he managed to say with effort and in a very deep voice.

“I’m more than okay,” Harry answered as he leaned in to kiss Draco. “You, on the other hand! You’ve been asleep for three weeks.”

Draco opened his eyes widely, shocked. He tried to look outside as if it would show a sign of the time that had passed but the blinds were shut. Harry could understand that it was odd to wake up and learn that three weeks had passed without even noticing it. It was already unsettling to learn that he had been out for several days; he couldn’t imagine what it was like for Draco.

“What? How come?”

“Well, it took me three days to wake up. Apparently some people don’t deal very well with having a piece of their soul taken from them. Magda said it was normal but I was so worried! You wouldn’t wake up!”

Draco tried to sit up and Harry helped him by arranging the pillows. Thankfully, spells had maintained his body in shape during the weeks he’d been asleep so he didn’t feel too sore. His movements were slow and uncoordinated but he was rapidly regaining control of his body.

“The last thing I remember is falling asleep before the ritual… Then, it’s all foggy but I think I heard your voice through the darkness…”

Harry blushed and toyed with Draco’s fingers intertwined with his own.

“I spoke to you a lot. I never actually left for more than ten minutes actually.”

“What? Are you completely daft? What about Ollie?”

Harry laughed and climbed into bed with Draco so he could pass his arms around him and feel him in his arms. He had missed this so much.

“Don’t worry, he’s at the Manor.”

Draco pulled Harry close and kissed his forehead.

“You’re so warm,” he whispered. “I used to think I was hugging an iceberg whenever I put my arms around you before.”

“I’m not an iceberg anymore, thanks to you,” Harry answered. “Do you feel any different?”

Draco tightened his grip on Harry and thought for a moment.

“I don’t know. I always knew there was something special between us so maybe our souls were just meant to be mingled somehow.”

Harry nodded. “Maybe we’ll feel a bond growing between us day after day, maybe we were already linked somehow.”

Harry relaxed in Draco’s arms and closed his eyes. Finally, he was back where he belonged. Just before they were about to fall asleep, Narcissa barged in, guided by Amy who had seen that Draco was awake on her charts and had let the boys have an intimate reunion.

“Draco!” she screamed.

Relieved, she hugged him and smiled at Harry with fondness. He was squished between the two and was awkwardly trying to move when they finally parted. Draco put his arms back around him and pulled him close. Harry had completely stopped feeling embarrassed in front of Narcissa, he didn’t even care as long as Draco was fine. He had learned the value of these moments when Draco had been asleep.

“So, when are we going home?” Draco asked, making everyone in the room burst out laughing.

* * *

“Finally back into our bed,” Draco beamed as he let himself fall on the mattress, Ollie by his side.

He hadn’t even bothered taking his shoes off and was petting Ollie and playing with him on the bed. Harry looked at them with tenderness and took off Draco’s shoes himself before carefully putting them in the dressing-room. He loved being able to spoil his boyfriend and his dog with little attentions such as breakfast in bed for Draco and a new toy for Ollie, doing the dishes even though it wasn’t his turn or taking the dog on a longer walk. It wasn’t much but he was so glad to be healthy and energetic again.

He headed to the bathroom and spoke to Draco while he brushed his teeth.

“I thought they’d never leave,” Harry said.

“Right! You’d think they’d get tired of hearing the same story again and again but no, three weeks without hearing my lovely voice was too much for them.”

Theo, Neville, Hermione, Narcissa and the Weasley family had been over for dinner. They had all listened as the boys spoke about their trip in the jungle, how they had relentlessly looked for the plant even though they had been lost for days. Then, Harry had to tell everyone about the moment when Draco finally woke up. Everyone had been captivated by the story even though they had already heard it a dozen times.

He had had such a good time, reunited with all their friends and loved ones, seeing them getting along or at least trying to. It was refreshing and it showed how mature and compassionate everyone was. Mrs Weasley had even promised she’d help Narcissa reconnect with Andromeda while the rest of them made some effort to participate in the conversation, even Ron. They still did everything they could to stay away from dangerous topics so it wasn’t perfect but he was accepted for who he was and so was Draco which was already a great achievement.

Harry finished his trip to the bathroom and raised his eyebrows when he noticed that Ollie had been sent to his own bed. He settled down in bed anyway and waited for Draco’s explanation.

“How do you feel about me, making love to you, Mr Potter?” Draco asked, fingers traveling down Harry’s neck.

Harry smiled and turned to his side to start snogging Draco. They made out until they had to part to avoid grinding against each other until they came in a ridiculously short amount of time.

“Well, I’m certainly not against you making love to me, as long as you do all the work. After all, you’ve been resting for three weeks,” Harry answered seductively.

Draco smirked and resumed his exploration but then his right hand stopped its delicious trail down Harry’s chest and his left one stopped massaging his nipple. Harry was ready to pout and ask for the hands to resume what they were doing when Draco suddenly shouted:

“I haven’t had sex in three weeks! And I promised you we’d be having sex all day long as soon as the ritual was done so we’ve got catching up to do.”

Draco started kissing Harry again and pulled off his clothes. Harry kissed him back with enthusiasm, wiggled out of his trousers and threw them on the floor. Then, an idea came to his mind but he needed Draco to get out of the room to get ready.

“Wait, wait, it’s been three weeks so you definitely have to go get the lube,” Harry whispered.

“Shit, can’t you just Accio it?”

“My trousers are on the floor. With my wand in it. Just run to the bathroom and fuck me, you lazy wanker.”

Draco, whose eyed had dilated the moment he had heard Harry say the words “fuck me”, complied and ran off to the bathroom. When he came back a minute later, a red little bottle in his hands, Harry was fully naked on the bed, two Slytherin ties in his hands.

“Found this in the wardrobe. I think you promised me something, Draco,” he said, biting his lips nervously.

Draco didn’t answer and jumped out of his clothes quicker than Harry had ever seen. He climbed on the bed and kissed Harry eagerly, limbs almost shaking with excitement.

“If you ever want to stop, just say so and I’ll remove the ties right away and it’ll be fine, I won’t be mad at all,” he said, taking the pieces of silver and green silk in his hands. “So, are you sure you want to do this?”

Despite his nervousness and bright red cheeks, Harry nodded fervently. He put his hands on each side of the bedpost and then raised his eyes to meet Draco’s, defying him. Draco straddled his hips and they both hissed when their erections brushed.

“Mmh, someone’s turned on,” Draco whispered, running his hand up and down between them.

He then managed to tie Harry’s wrists to the bedposts while making sure the knots weren’t too tight. Harry struggled to keep his breathing under control; he had never done anything quite like this in his life but it was nice to trust Draco and to let go of all his stubbornness. He had tried to keep these wants at bay but it was pointless and he wanted to give in. He accepted his kinks and he was ready to explore them all with Draco, to tell him all about his desires.

“Is this okay?” Draco asked, licking every inch of skin on Harry’s chest.

“Yes,” Harry hissed, lost in the middle of pain and pleasure.

He spread his legs unconsciously and pulled on the bonds that tied him; it was so right and so perfect being at Draco’s mercy like that. He discovered the sensation of belonging somewhere, of being in such a right headspace he felt entirely relaxed and at ease. It was new and scary but at he had longed for this a long time. The acknowledgement of this part of himself was something he was proud of.

Draco’s fingers drifted lower, eased into Harry and prepared him thoroughly. Harry had grown to love this and by the time he was ready, he was an incoherent mess, muttering nonsense. Even though it was frustrating, he loved the fact that even if he wanted to, he couldn’t touch himself. Tonight, his pleasure belonged to someone else.

They made love like this, with Harry tied to the bed and unable to move, and it was rough, sexy and everything Harry had dreamt it would be. Draco had been careful at first but then he had let himself get carried away, encouraged by Harry’s moans and the way he arched back to meet his deep thrusts.

When they had both climaxed, Draco hurried and immediately took off the ties, rubbing Harry’s tender wrists. He bent down and caught Harry’s trousers by the hem, retrieved a wand (his own was farther away and he was too lazy to get up) and cast the Accio spell to bring a salve from the bathroom’s cupboard.

When Harry came back to his senses, Draco was coating his wrists with the salve and massaging it into his skin. He hummed happily. It was rather nice, being taken care of like this.

“You pulled hard on these,” Draco explained.

“Merlin, it was bloody fantastic,” Harry simply replied, not even aware of any pain in his wrists. “Did you like it too?”

Draco chuckled.

“Liking it is an understatement. I could barely refrain myself from coming the second I saw you tied up. Let’s do it again every night.”

Harry snuggled against Draco and put his head on his chest once his wrists had been coated in salve and massaged during long minutes spent sharing kisses. They called Ollie back and he came running into the bedroom, trying to lick both their faces at the same time, tail wiggling excitedly as if they had been gone for days.

“We’ve got loads of time to try more elaborate things,” Harry whispered, eyes already closed and his hands barely moving on Ollie’s fur.

“We’ve got a lifetime for that, Harry. But for now, let’s sleep. We both have got to go to work tomorrow.”

Harry had honestly missed going to work. If he worked, it meant he was healthy enough to do so and he was glad to be able to do something. Helping George out was important to him after all he had done for him and anyway, he cared about the shop and he was genuinely interested in the process of creating new potions and pranks.

“We’re still meeting up with George and Theo for lunch at noon, right?” Harry asked. “Shame Neville, Ron and Hermione couldn’t stay one more day.”

Draco was rubbing circles on his back and holding him close so it was quite difficult to stay awake in this cocoon of warmth and well-being, especially after such an intense orgasm.

“You do know they’ve got exams at the end of the year, unlike us?”

Harry gave him a little tap on the chest playfully but he was so tired there was no strength in it at all and he doubted Draco had even felt it.

“I know, you moron. I just miss them, is all.”

Draco nodded. Harry knew he missed some of his Slytherin friends too.

“We’ll see them soon. And you’re almost friends with the Headmistress anyway, I’m sure you can get us into Hogwarts any time.”

Harry agreed, he was on friendly terms with his previous teacher and it had nothing to do with his name or fame. She simply liked him because of his personality and their common membership to Order of the Phoenix.

“Good night, Draco,” he managed to say, yawning.

“Sweet dreams,” he heard right before falling asleep.

* * *

Harry was exhausted. He hadn’t thought that his professional life would be so demanding. Moving boxes and tidying George’s shop all day shouldn’t have been this hard, especially now that he could easily practice magic again. However he had been proven wrong and was relieved when George came back from his brainstorming session in his office and told him it was time for lunch.

Despite the past hectic weeks and his lack of sleep due to last night’s adventures (Harry had had to hide his wrists with his sleeves all day but the rush of anyone finding out or the way his shirt’s fabric rubbed against his wrist was enough to keep him on edge all day), he hadn’t forgotten which day they were. 13th of February. He kept eyeing the various shops they walked past so he’d get inspiration to find a present for Draco.

If he hadn’t been so excited to try out this new thing in the bedroom last night, he definitely would have offered _himself_ tied up to the bed to Draco. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner?

“Looking for a present for Valentine’s Day?” George asked, smirking.

He had noticed how Harry kept his eyes riveted to the shops around him, almost running down into people when he saw something he thought was interesting.

“Yeah but it’s so hard to find something great… I mean, I can’t buy a bloody box of chocolates to my boyfriend who, by the way, gave me a piece of his soul…”

George laughed.

“Well, you know Angela and I have been sending owls to each other for a while and well, she helped me a lot after Fred died. Lately, it seems like there’s something going on between us, we’ve gone on a few dates…”

Harry patted his back and stopped their walk.

“George, that’s great! I have no idea you two were serious!”

“We’re not, not really. But I’d like us to be. So I’ve booked us a week-end in Rome. She’s always wanted to go there, you see.”

“That’s so romantic! But we can’t leave, Draco promised Theo he’d help with the shop…”

“Well, book a holiday for the summer. You won’t have to work at all if you don’t want to, I can hire,” George added.

They stopped talking about it because they had reached the restaurant. Draco and Theo were already sitting down and they waved at them when they arrived. Harry didn’t stop thinking about George’s idea and the more he thought about it, the more he decided it was the best present possible. A week in Guernsey with Draco in their same hotel room. It’d be perfect and they could look forward to it all winter. Besides, going now wouldn’t really mean the same to them because there would be no sun and no lazy stroll on the beach at night: it was much too cold for that.

Harry kissed Draco on the mouth when he sat down next to him. He had no problem doing that in front of strangers anymore, wizards or Muggles and relatives or friends. If they had a problem with it, they could fuck off. If a journalist was there, who cared? Certainly not them or their friends and family.

They exchanged “how are you’s” and talked about their day. They ordered their food and the conversation came alive, evolved and kept them all interested. Sitting down next to his boyfriend, whose reassuring hand was on his thigh, having a casual lunch with close friends, Harry didn’t think he needed more to be utterly happy.

“Oh, did I tell you guys?” Theo said excitedly. “Neville said that as soon as he gets his NEWTs, he’ll come and work for me as a botanist. Isn’t that amazing? He’s really the best on the market at present and he wants to work for me!”

“We’re going to be the first suppliers of potions in the entire United Kingdom really soon,” Draco added.

“Well, you worked for it and you are the best,” Harry said, smiling.

George started talking about his future plans for pranking devices. Theo and him were considering starting a partnership for all the potions George was selling.

Harry stayed quiet for a moment, not at all bored but contemplative. He had come such a long way towards this perfect moment and he was overwhelmed. He squeezed Draco’s hand on his thigh.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sensing Harry’s odd behaviour.

Harry thought about Valentine’s Day tomorrow, about his present to Draco and how he’d react, smiling, beaming, kissing him. He was even certain he had guessed Draco’s present for him (he just knew him that well). He was sure he’d be blindfolded and led to an expensive restaurant either in London or even in a much more daring location like Paris. They’d get the perfect romantic evening, ending with train tickets for Guernsey.

Harry couldn’t wait. For tomorrow, for Guernsey, for their life together.

“Yeah. I’m more than okay,” Harry whispered. “I’m perfect.”

Draco smiled at him and kissed his cheek before returning to the conversation. They held hands under the table and didn’t let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! The next one will be the epilogue and it’ll probably be up next Friday. I’m not done writing it but I’m so excited for you to read it and sad at the same time which is a combination of emotion I didn’t know existed. Anyway, thank you so much for commenting, leaving kudos and bookmarks: you are the best readers in the world <3


	30. Epilogue

August 1999, Guernsey

Harry and Draco had found a beautiful cove during one of their many races on a broomstick, only accessible by air or sea, hidden from sight. They had decided to spend the day there. Harry had been adamant: he wanted the full Muggle experience and he rented a small boat which seemed precarious.

Halfway there, the engine died and they had to row the rest of the way to the cove. They didn’t want to Apparate and leave the boat in the middle of the sea. Once they arrived in the cove, Harry eyed Draco mischievously and smirked. He pointed at the sand beach in front of them:

“Oh look, a treehouse!”

Harry had said the first thing that had come to his mind and as soon as Draco turned his head towards the beach, he got up from his seat on the boat and pushed him in the water. Draco hadn’t seen anything coming.

He fell, making the boat pitch dangerously. Harry had to hold its edges to stay onboard. Draco emerged a few seconds later, hissing because of the cold water.

“Potter, you’re going to regret this!” he threatened.

He put all of his weigh on one side of the boat and made it tilt towards the water. Harry laughed and held on but the boat was almost turned over so he had no choice but to fall as well.

The water was incredibly cold but it was more than bearable: Harry was used to much colder. He resurfaced quickly and splashed Draco with water. He laughed and splashed some back at him. They tried to duck or hide under water, playing, trying to sink the other.

Their playful row slowly escalated into something different and soon they were kissing hungrily, gasping and clutching at each other.

“Is that what you had in mind for your adventure?” Draco asked, breathless.

“Not exactly but it’s perfect the way it is. It’s always so much better when it’s with you,” Harry answered.

Draco chuckled and helped Harry back onto the boat. He then held out his hand so that Harry could drag him back on board as well. They rowed for a couple of minutes and finally arrived on the beach, collapsing on the sand.

Alone in the cove, they enjoyed their day, making out and feeding each other pieces of fruits. They thought they had all the time in the world and it was true. No more illness or war threatened to shorten their lives. It might seem frivolous to spend days in a cove doing nothing but enjoy the sunlight or dive in the sea to watch beautiful fishes. As they were wizards, they were even able to stay underwater for hours. Harry would know about it, his Fourth Year had been quite productive.

“I can’t row back to the harbour,” Harry complained. “I can’t feel my arms anymore. We’re wizards, we should be able to do something, repair the engine or something!”

As they were both too lazy to row back to the harbour, Draco had the bright idea of levitating the boat above the water while they were on it and pretend to row whenever they saw Muggles. They decided to save most of the trip back for the next day and head to a town they had seen on their way to the cove. After all, they had all the time in the world. Draco’s plan worked and they arrived in a little town by the seaside much quicker than they expected. They explored it and found a nice hotel to spend the night before coming back to St Peter Port the following day.

* * *

Back in Guernsey’s main town, they decided their afternoon would be a little less original than the previous one.

On the beach, the sun was high in the sky, blazing and warm. The sand under Harry’s feet seemed to be made of lava; it was almost impossible to walk upon it without shoes. Harry wiped his glistening forehead and took off his shirt: he never thought he’d be able to say that he couldn’t stand the heat anymore but there he was. Shirtless at the beach, sweating, wishing he’d gone swimming instead of stubbornly trying to tan.

“Harry Potter?” a voice asked.

 _Not this again_ , Harry thought as he discreetly put a hand on his forehead to check if the lock of hair that was hiding his scar was still securely in place.

Thankfully it was. Nonetheless, Harry raised his head and eyed the girl in front of him: she was young and almost shaking with excitement at the idea of having met the Chosen One. Harry just wanted to enjoy his damn holiday in peace so he answered:

“No, no, you must be mistaken.”

The girl shook her and and kept raising her voice which attracted the attention of the people around them.

“But I recognize you from the Daily Prophet and that article they posted about a charity event!”

“No, I’m really not!”

People were starting to turn around and to stare at them and it wouldn’t be long before all the witches and wizards would notice who he was and all the Muggles on the beach would wonder what the hell was happening and the Statute of Secrecy would be broken and…

“Luke, flirting _again_?”

Draco hadn’t forgotten about the first time this had happened a year ago. He grabbed a towel and started drying himself up. This time, Harry didn’t have to hide the fact that he was staring at his muscled body. Eyes full of desire and love, he stared at Draco, at the body he spent hours worshipping. He had come such a long way and he was feeling so much better than a year ago, both physically and emotionally. He had learned to accept this part of himself, to embrace the fact that he loved boys and more specifically Draco Malfoy.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I was wrong!” the girl said before running away.

Draco chuckled and sat down on the towel next to Harry. His body, cold from the seawater, was a relief to Harry who had been burning up under the sun - in a good way. He relished the heat even though he suffered it just like anyone else now.

“Does this feel like déjà-vu to you?” Draco asked.

“Want to fall in love all over again?”

Draco cast a Notice-Me-Not spell for more privacy and to avoid any other people from the Wizarding World bothering them. He took Harry’s hand and settled on the sand, feet buried in it.

“I’m falling in love with you everyday, Harry. Every morning when I wake up next to you, I think, I almost missed this. It was so easy for us to wander off, to go our own separate way and to lose everything.”

“But then you remember you’re stuck with me,” Harry answered, thinking about their mingled souls.

Draco smiled.

“Yes. Stuck with you forever, Scarhead. A year ago, would you have even thought this would happen?”

Harry laughed. A year ago, the mere idea of kissing Draco and flirting with him seemed ridiculous to him. Now, he wouldn’t know how to live without him. In a year, things had turned out much differently than he would have thought but he was so glad for it. In a year, people who seem indispensable to you might become strangers and strangers might become anchors.

Draco had always meant something to Harry but today he was his life buoy in the huge shipwreck he had been caught in. That hadn’t changed when he got better and he suspected it never would. In a year, you can start to love someone and feel like it had been the one thing missing from your life. In a year, you can start to think, feel and act as two halves of a whole instead of as an individual being.

“No, I never thought this would happen but I’m glad it did.”

Draco kissed him and they went back to a comfortable silence punctuated by a few discussions. Their lazy afternoon at the beach stretched to the end of the day. When the light started to diminish, they decided to pack up their things and head back to their hotel to shower.

“I wonder how Ollie’s doing,” Draco wondered as he put on his brand new Italian shoes.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be obese when Mrs Weasley’s done with him,” Harry laughed.

“Merlin, don’t say things like that, what if his little jumpers don’t fit anymore?”

He was already thinking about sending an Owl to ask how Ollie was doing, Harry was sure of it.

“Draco, stop fretting, he’s fine!”

They were heading down town to get ice cream and buy souvenirs for their friends. They put on their jackets and climbed down the stairs. Draco stopped on their way out and told Harry he’d be right back. He saw him walking up to the reception and talking to the woman in charge of the hotel. He came back a few seconds later, smiling and wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulder.

“What makes you so happy?”

“Well, this hotel is dog-friendly. So, next time, we’ll bring Ollie with us.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. His heart beat faster and his knees got weak when he started to understand that there would be future holidays on Guernsey. Many of them.

He beamed and started pulling Draco in a crowded street, impatient to visit this part of Guernsey he hadn’t yet been to and immediately at ease. He entered the small shops, bought candies to share with Draco and walked until his feet hurt. He hadn’t just rediscovered taste and health, he had found out how good life could be.

* * *

After a quiet morning wandering in St Peter Port’s narrow streets, Harry and Draco had followed a group of tourists so they’d see where everyone went to when they wanted to visit essential locations. The group had stopped in front of a huge white house with a spiraling staircase on the outside and a beautiful garden around it. It was called Hauteville House and it had been Victor Hugo’s refuge during his exile from France. For the lack of a better thing to do and a nagging curiosity they both shared, the boys decided to behave like tourists for the afternoon and book a visit.

They weren’t disappointed: the majestic house had a soul of its own and the memories it harboured seemed to linger within its walls. Though neither Harry nor Draco had ever read any of Hugo’s work, they felt a connection to him, probably due to their common love for the island which had welcomed them so many times in the past.

On the way out, Harry picked a random book and bought it. Draco then took his hand and led him to their favourite restaurant for a nice dinner. He specifically requested candles on the table, telling the waitress he wanted to spoil his beautiful boyfriend tonight.

“Feeling romantic, are we?” Harry asked, chuckling.

He couldn’t help it, he still blushed when Draco stared at him with this look, eyes full of passion and lust.

“What, I’m not allowed to brag about my famous and handsome boyfriend anymore?”

“Come on, nobody knows who I am here.”

Draco raised his eyebrows.

“Well, there definitely is a wizarding community here and they just keep finding us every time we come,” he teased. “And anyway, you’re still my handsome boyfriend anywhere in the world.”

Harry wanted to say, _I’m much more than that. I live with a piece of your soul and carry it with me daily so that I can stay alive._

He knew he didn't have to say it though. They didn’t feel each other’s emotions nor were they able to read their respective minds but there was something they could sense. Especially while they were making love or right after when Harry was lying in Draco’s arms, head on his chest and legs intertwined. Draco always kept a soothing hand on his bum or rubbed his lower back until he fell asleep. At that moment, their connection was on both a physical and spiritual level. They both relished these moments and often stayed in the same position all night long, waking up snuggled together.

When they finished eating, the sky hadn’t gone dark yet yet there was an unmistakable change in the air. People strolled idly on the beach and their laugh echoed warmly in the streets, making up for the lack of sun. It had finished its course for the day and was setting in the horizon. It was an evening of laziness and comfort which had a little something that undeniably reminded Harry of summer, freedom and love.

“Want to go for a walk?” Harry asked.

They went to the same beach where Draco had yelled at the sky and wrapped his arm around Harry during their first day in Guernsey. He still vividly remembered the way it had felt, having Draco so close to him. Exhilarating, freeing, exciting, his mind supplied.

He held hands with Draco while they walked on the beach, shoes in their hands and bare feet sliding in the sand. A year ago, he never would have guessed he’d be so comfortable and proud to hold hands with a boy, to kiss him in public. By some miracle, no newspaper had outed them yet but it was going to come up anytime soon. After all, they had agreed they wouldn’t hide now that their loved ones were aware of their relationship. Harry didn’t even care one bit about the lies and distorted truths journalists may publish about him and Draco. If newspapers were to out them, they’d give an interview to Luna and have it published in the Quibbler.

Harry and Draco sat down on the beach when they decided they couldn’t fine a better spot to watch the sunset. Harry remembered about the book he had bought earlier on and shrunk in his pocket. He waved his wand and enlarged it after making sure no Muggles were near.

He dusted the sand that had managed to make its way into his pocket when he sat down and read the title: _Toilers of the sea_.

He settled against Draco, leaning on him and opened it.

“Should I read it to you?” Harry asked.

Draco tightened his hold on Harry and hummed his agreement, eyes focused on the vast range of colours emanating from the sky. The waves crashed on the beach regularly in a soothing rhythm which was punctuated by the chirping of birds all around them and the seagulls’ cries above them.

They really couldn’t have picked a better place to fall in love.

Harry smiled and started reading: “ _I dedicate this book to the rock of hospitality and liberty, to that portion of old Norman ground inhabited by the noble little nation of the sea, to the island of Guernsey, severe yet kind, my present asylum, my probable tomb._ ”

Alone on their island of peace, Harry read on until the light began to fade.

* * *

On their last day in Guernsey, nostalgia wasn’t a part of the emotions Harry felt for once. He wasn’t glad to leave at all, he loved the island and he knew he’d always come here if he needed a place to escape. Now, he felt at ease with the idea of leaving. He had a home to come back to. A life.

With Ron and Hermione back from Hogwarts with their NEWTs, he was glad to come home. He would meet them at Florean Fortescue for ice cream after his shift at George’s shop and then have a nice afternoon at the flat reunited with his two best friends in the world. He’d wait for Draco to come home from work and order take out and eat on the couch with Ollie on his lap.

Everyone got along now. Mostly. Ron and Draco certainly weren’t fond of each other but at least they managed to be friendly.

“What are you thinking about?” Draco asked as he stepped on the balcony where Harry was sitting.

He finished drying his hair with a fluffy white towel and sat down next to him. Having just showered, he smelled strongly of the citrus and exotic fruits present in his favourite shampoo. He said it reminded him of the jungle.

“Home,” Harry answered.

He laced his fingers with Draco’s.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s perfect. I’m just happy, you know?”

Draco’s worried frown disappeared and he smiled a little, eyes drifting back to the sea.

“I know. I’m happy too. More than I thought was possible.”

Harry wasn’t anxious about the future anymore. Whatever may come, he knew he wouldn’t face it alone and that was what mattered the most to him. He had his family, his friends and Draco. It was an unexpected combination of people, his old friends from school and new ones like Theo, his best friends, his family and its newest members such as Teddy, Andromeda and Narcissa. He wouldn’t trade any of them for the world.

He vowed to take his time, enjoy the little moments in life that made it so special and precious. Waking up next to Draco, laughing with his friends, having a nice Sunday afternoon at the Burrow, holding Teddy, petting Ollie.

Harry was so glad to be alive to see this. He knew he had made the right choice in King Cross Station when he had the possibility of moving on to the next stop. He knew he was right where he belonged, sitting down in front of the sea with Draco Malfoy holding his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it. The last chapter ever. This fic has been my safe place for so long and I’m so grateful to all of you for making this first publication an amazing experience. I’ve got loads of ideas for future fics so this is not a goodbye, I’ll see you again very soon! So subscribe to me or follow me on Tumblr (casknowsaboutwizards.tumblr.com) to get updates soon!  
> I will also be editing and correcting mistakes I may have made soon so if you want to download this whole fic, wait a few weeks to have the final edited version!  
> I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this story and I hope it’ll always be something you can come back to whenever you feel like you need to leave our world for a little while and dive into something magical <3  
> THANK YOU!!


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